This thread shall be put to rest when the peanut gallery is thoroughly sated!!
More bike dropping and pants sharting stories please! 
Well if you insist............ It was late June 1978 and I was a handsome young man of 18 years, and the (questionably) proud owner of a shiny new CB750F0. Yes, I know that doesn't make sense, everyone knows that the F0 came out in 1975, Right? Right. But, here in Oz, the motorcycling public recoiled in horror at the unpallatable fugliness of the F, and sales dried up quicker than that of Milli Vanilli records after they were found out. (being found out is a terrible thing, and some members here should be careful about re-writing their own personal histories, lest the same fate befalls them) I'd tried to buy a new Kawasaki KZ1000, but couldn't get the finance, so took the "NOS" (still in the crate) F-ing F as plan B. But I digress...........
Being the handsome young chap that I was, I had a girlfriend who was a real b1tch. Fair dinkum, she was as loyal as a Boa Constrictor, but had far fewer morals. With luck, she's been murdered since I last saw her. Anyway, we'd had one of our regular alcohol fuelled arguments and I stormed off home, on foot, as I was a responsible young fellow of course. It'll be hard for some of our younger readers here to believe, but back then, there were no cell phones. True, as incredible as it sounds now, you couldn't just reach into your pocket when you wanted to communicate with someone, you either had to have a house phone, or find a public phone. (do they still exist?)
Back in those days I was a young soldier, and as happens all too regularly in a peace-time army, (Vietnam was over and we were all sitting around twiddling our thumbs and praying for another war to overcome our boredom) I was rostered for guard duty the next morning, and as I'd recently dropped my F-ing F, (the real reason I'd walked around to that b1tch from hell's evil lair) I was in need of a phone box, so I could call a taxi to get me to work the next day.
The first phone booth had been vandalised so I walked to the next, a mile or so away. No luck, the vandal had struck again. Tired of walking, I stormed home, jumped on my slightly damaged F-ing F, and rode off in search of a f-ing phone that actually f-ing worked. My search took me past the mega-b1tche's stinking pit, so I opened the taps and roared past her house at full song to let her know exactly what I thought of her.
The trouble with that was that the street terminated in a T intersection (well actually a T with a sloping top rail that was angled at 45 degrees to the left, but I don't know what that's called?) so I hit the gutter at close to 100 MPH, got some awesome air, went thru a small tree, and flew sideways into a "Yeild" (Give Way in Oz) sign. The 3 inch diameter steel pole didn't break, but bent at 90 degrees about 3 feet up from the ground, and I continued on to slide to a halt about 100 yards from where I first hit the gutter.
Now I mentioned that I'd been drinking, and alcohol is a wonderful local anaesthetic. So good in fact, that I hardly felt any pain at all, so had no difficulty picking up the (now much more damaged) F-ing F, and realising that the alternator cover was smashed, decided to push the bike the two miles home. (past the she-dragon's cave, (but luckily she was asleep in her coffin I presume, as the sun was rising) albeit a little quieter than before. Luckily for me a sympathetic mate offered to drive me to the barracks, and I got there just in time.
It didn't take long for the Duty NCO to notice that I wasn't all that well, so he sent me down to the Regimental Aid Post. They in turn sent me across to the Repatriation Hospital, where I was XRayd, treated for several broken ribs and muliple grazes and lacerations, then sent back to finish my guard duty. (the unfeeling bastarrds even threatened to charge me with a "self inflicted wound", WTF?)
Now I'd like to say that I sharted, but being as drunk as I was, I just went with the flow, and wasn't sober enough to be frightened. Another mate opined that the reason I was still alive might have been due to my drunken state relaxing me and he might have been right. All I know is that I'm still here and it's all that b1tches f-ing fault anyway.........
