When I was a kid, it must have been 5 or 6th grade, I had a hot little YZ80 that I raced and a XR200 play bike for the local trails. A kid at school found out that I raced and was always bugging me to let him ride my race bike. Day after day this kid was all, I can ride… I ride my (Dads/Brothers/Uncles/Grand Mothers) bike all the time and it’s (bigger/faster/more powerful) than any 80cc bike. Let me ride it, just once…
So one day I’m like ‘fine’, ride the bus to my house and I’ll let you take it on my track (small back yard loop with a couple of jumps). So kid is all excited all the way to my place and when we get there I tell him to ride the 200 first, “just so I can see how you do”.
I pull the good old XR out of the shed, hand the kid a helmet and point him up the driveway (400 yards of gravel). He looks a little unsure as I lean the bike towards him, motor running, in gear, clutch in.
Well he tosses a leg over, takes the bars gives the XR a couple of full throttle revs and drops the cutch. He’s full on whisky throttle, eyes wide, mouth open, feet flailing behind and the front end pointing towards the sky! After about 80 yards he drifts to the right and smacks a tree.
Luckily he was unhurt, and the bike was so beat up before that no one would have noticed any damage anyway. Just think what would have happened on a two stroke race prepped YZ80 what latterly would blow flames out the exhaust. That’s the last person, other than my Father, Brother, Son, and Mechanic that I have allowed to ride a bike I own.