Bit of a result!

Was 'clipping the white line' a crime?
Isn't crossing the centre line part of police advanced driving?
What do you think would have been an appropriate penalty?

 

Not AFAIK but apprently it's enough for them to follow and pull someone
over. Or so they said at the time.

I don't know. It's a wide junction, at 11pm and there was no-one else
on the road apart from the car behind me. I knew it was a copper and I
suspected that I was over the limit, so I was being careful.

Dunno - I have never done anything but put my hands up and admit I
broke the law wrt DD. I did, and still do, think 18 months was harsh,
though.

 

Strewth. If they stopped everyone who did that, there'd be no police
left to chase real criminals.

Oh, wait...

 

How much over the limit were you, out of interest?

Trouble is, we've all driven pissed, if we're honest. Or almost all of
us. Usually when we were younger, because you do silly things when young
because you know you're immortal.

Riding a bike pissed - now I've only ever done that twice that I can
think of, and both times in foreign "so it doesn't count"..... And
thinking back, I was 21 the first time and 23 the second.
I can't believe anyone here would ride a bike blotto, because we all
know that it's likely to hurt, sooner rather than later.

And it's a bloody difficult thing to do, anyway.

Hm - show of hands, anyone?

 

No, I don't, actually. I think it was a long overdue acceptance of the
fact that one should not abdicate responsibility by saying "I was
pissed...".

With rights to drive a motor vehicle come responsibilities.

One can argue cogently that speed per se is not dangerous (which is one
reason why I don't think they'll ever get speeding to be socially
unacceptable, in the way that DD mostly is) but I can't muster an
argument that says that DD is not a bloody silly and dangerous thing to
do.

I can see your point that it might have been the thin end of the wedge,
but I don't think it was.

 

Ooh, a fair bit. Double.

<fx:raises hand>

Most of the times I fell off were when going home from the pub. This
was when I was 20 or less, though and it was only a GS550E.

I haven't knowingly driven or ridden whilst under the influence in 20
years or so, although I suspect that I may have been over on a few
"mornings after".

 

<Thinks back to almost riding off a cliff near Rochehaut during the
French Run to Sedan in 2005>

No. Never. Bloody silly thing to do.

 

Not for ages but occasionally when young and immortal. Only once
really totally pissed. Had to be helped on because I was incapable of
getting on and starting it myself. Rode the 20 miles or so home
without incident and then puked on my fathers boots as I got off on
the drive.

 

There is, and always has been, a huge difference between driving over
the limit and pissed. It's many many years since I've driven while
pissed, but I suspect I may be over, or at least very close to, the
limit (it's .5, rather than .8, thingies per wotsit here) most times I
drive back from a restaurant having had a beer and half a bottle of
wine. But even if I follow that with a cognac or another couple of
glasses of red at a friend's house I'm still usually quite happy to
drive the mile or so home.

"It's different in the country".

Last time I remember was about five years ago at a party chez nous,
wheelieing Champ's gixxer on the road opposite our drive... nearly
knocked the rear light off on the ground, apparently.

--
_______
..'_/_|_\_'. Ace (bdotrogers a.t compaqnet.fr)
\`\ | /`/ DS#8 BOTAFOT#3 SbS#2 UKRMMA#13 DFV#8 SKA#2 IBB#10
`\\ | //'
`\|/`
`

 

Heh... when I marshalled at Jurby, someone pulled in at the corner after
ours so he could scoop the chunks out of his lid after throwing up. Lid
back on, off he goes again...

 

I used to think that, and sympathise to a certain extent, but having
participated in an experiment to see just how alcohol affects your
judgement, even when you feel 100% OK, I can't agree.

It was very revealing to see just how the equivalent of two pints nawsed
things up, even though I was technically under the limit, and felt
pretty much stone-cold sober.

I used to, years ago. Then my mate Niall got nicked for DD on his bike,
and like you, he was over the limit but not pissed. That was a wake-up
call, all right, because it could so easily have been me. Now, if I'm on
wheels, it's a pint and a half, max. Maybe two pints spread out over a
very long time.

 

Would that be the one where your bike was tired and decided to have a
quick lie down at the side of the road?

Absolutely. Unless I needed to catch a ferry.

 

<waves>

I was a fucking accident waiting to happen in the 80's. I got my act
together (more or less) in the 90's, and behave myself in the 21st
century.

One night (must be '87 or '88) I left the bar (with the intention of
going for a piss) at the cricket club on my hands and knees, and woke
up in the morning, in my own bed. Outside, on the drive, was my
GPz750R.

How either of us got home is still a mystery.
--
| ___ Salad Dodger
|/ \
_/_____\_ GL1500SEV/CBR1100XXX/CBX1000Z
|_\_____/_| ..93550../..25068.../..31928.
(>|_|_|<) TPPFATUICG#7 DIAABTCOD#9 WG*
|__|_|__| BOTAFOT #70 BOTAFOF #09 PM#5
\ |^| / IbW#0 & KotIbW# BotTOS#6 GP#4
\|^|/ ANORAK#17 IbB#4 YTC#4 two#11
'^' RBR Clues: 00 Pts:0000 Miles:0000

 

As you know I used to race bangers - at one meeting I didn't have to
drive the tow car home (all our 'teams' cars had come on the back of
flatbed lorry).

I only had three pints over the afternoon but I remember really
struggling to control and keep the old Triumph I was campaigning on the
track (more than usual).

Certainly convinced me that not drinking made a major contribution to
road safety.

 

Excellent. So, who else here can claim to have raced drunk?

 

Ah. Well, as I'm sitting here three sheets or so atm, the old honesty
bump is bothering me, iykwim. There was an evening, followed by a
morning, where there was a motor club annual dinner jobbie followed by
a banger race, wonnit. I don't remember much of it very well at all,
'cos that's the way trauma takes me, but suffice to say there were
pots involved on the evening, followed by lots of spirits and a
willing and enthusiastic young lady - then there was banger banging
and a fucking biggger bang than the night before and an ambulance and
blood and snot all over. Then there was woprk on Monday, looking like
a panda and I got swent home for a few days (still stunk of booze,
apparently) and a headache like you wouldn't believe.

Bad, I was.

 

psssht. it's been ages since we had any tales from the Pipt and that was
rubbish by comparison.

I mean, how enthusiastic was she?

 

There was a bike rally, an annual one around November fifth. Big
bonfire, taht sort of thing. I still wear that club's MA1 that wot I
acquired that night, 'cos it's warm and stuff. Anyway, it was a
looong night and a looong early morning and when I went to kip in my
tent I remember the ice on the <spit> cars <spit> in the car park and
the ice on the tent flap and the frozen tent zip.

I really remember the frozen feeling at ten the next morning as I'd
fallen like a tree in my tent, leaving (good form) my boots outside
the inner tent - but I was still wearing them, innit. So we went into
the pub for a hair of the dog and a FOAD fryup on the Sunday lunchtime
and then loaded up and fucked off.

I had to stop and puke a couple of times but that wasn't so bad - the
white-outs coming over the Peaks were really bad, though. Apparently
I was down to fifteen mph a few times, but the boys stayed with me
(pissing theirselves, the fuckers) and wouldn't let me forget either.
I was shit scared when I couldn't see where the **** I was going, and
apparently I was seen to feel my way down the kerb with my left foot a
few times.

Anybody (and there's quite a few here) who's seen me drunk will agree
that I get a bit out of control when the beer takes me, worse with
spirits - and I do apologise for these times, but that's just the
divil in me - but I'm not so bad now as I used to be.

Those white-outs, though, **** my old boots. You know when, this time
of year, the sun's really low and wants to get in your eyes, no matter
what? It was like that, apart form there was no sun, just a frosty
road. All of a sudden I could see nothing and hear very little apart
from the blood roaring and the old heart hammering. I'd pull the
clutch in and coast a bit, come to a stop and wait for it all to clear
- didn't take long - an dthen set off again.

Took a fucklong time to get home, mind. <shakes head> Never again.

 

Haha! The Pipt, you ****. It was rubbish, I'll give you that. I'm
in Honest Nige mode tonight, 'cos I'm shagged right out (not like
that, you filthmeister) and pished to boot, hoping for a decent
night's kip through the continuing manflu.

Very, as recollection serves. Big night out, annual bash wiv DJs and
dicky bows - some of the boyos had ruffled shirts on, ffs. I still
ahve the photos with the pots from that night - the old man still has
the pots, prolly - well, the keepers anyway. Hero of the night, me,
swepted the board it was. All sorts of brass pots, had to keep
getting up and shaking handses, saying how honnered it was and how
lucky I'd been. Autotest, autocross, road rally and stage rally nav,
mostest improved toosser, that sort of thing.

Anyway, she was most impressed and had to carry them all for me and
she had to buy a dress and have her hair done and people were buying
her drinks too which prolly helped a lot. I don't recall a lot of
sleeping, put it that way - and then we were off to the track at eight
or some godawful hour in the morning. Lovely little ting she was,
lots of eighties hair and eye makeup and a tendency to throw herself
into whatever she was doing with total commitment.

Going to kip happy now, me ;-)