Some excellent stories (and photos...thanks Reba!)
I've spent a lot of my life on bikes and have some interesting stories. Probably one of the funniest is back when I was 17 or so. There was some new buildings that were under construction. It was a 3 story industrial park. The front of the building had only one story at ground level. The ground on the back side of the building was lower and that is where the bottom floor was at ground level.
From the outside, it looked like your typical shopping center...on the inside it was more like an open warehouse with a divider wall about every 3 or so of the future stores.
We used to take our bikes inside of these buildings and ride them around. It was loud as hell and there was a lot of dust on the concrete floor so it made it slippery. Spinning tires was easy, as well as doing doughnuts, etc.
One night, we had some girls with us and were out cruizing around and decided to go to the buildings. We were inside having a blast until we saw a spotlight shining in the front door, obviously from a police car. Unfortunately, he was blocking the only exit so we were screwed....until I saw the door that led to the lower levels....it was the only way out.
You haven't lived until you try to take your motorcycle down a stairwell in a building. I was barely able to get my bike through the doorway and it took some twisting and maneuvering to get it through. I took the bike down the steps....until I got stuck at about somewhere near the middle floor. The cop hadn't made his way into the building yet so there was a little bit of time. I twisted here....picked up here...put the bike on its side there....and eventually was able to get it unstuck. I then had to do the same thing when I reached the doorway on the bottom floor. Fortunately, Bill had a much smaller bike and had no problem going through the doorways (although my bike handled much better riding down the steps
)
Eventually I got it out and then tried to find an unlocked door so we could get out. The only door was a weird hatch where one of those large industrial dumpsters would go. It was a couple of feet off the floor. We picked my bike up and maneuvered through this hatch. We then got his bike. The moment we got his bike out, the cop came busting through the door. Good thing for us, his police car was still parked upstairs and he obviously wasn't much of a runner. We took off like a bat out of hell and were long gone by the time he got back to his car.
I remember being scared crapless that the police would come knocking on my door at any minute....I was on edge for weeks. Looking back, however, I don't think he ever got a good look at us or our bikes and probably wouldn't recognize us if we ever bumped into him.
It is funny, however, when somebody asked me about scratches on my bike and telling the story of getting it stuck in a stairway. Unfortunately, neither one of us got a second date out of those girls