Maroubra: Circa 1970. I'd just picked up the new second hand Yamaha RT1MX I'd purchased from a then famous race car driver and not wanting my anti motorcycle policeman father to know I'd bought another bike, took it to my mate Bernie's backyard so we could have have a good squiz at it. Boys being boys, we naturally couldn't wait to start the bike so after 15 minutes of kicking with no result we decided to squirt some Aerostart through the decompressor. Next kick, the bike started on full throttle, revving to about a squillion on the revometer. It was at this inopportune moment that I discovered that a kill switch doesn't have Buckleys chance of stopping an engine working at those revs, so with no other choice available I clicked her into first gear, grabbed a handfull of front brake on and dropped the clutch, hoping to stall the big Yammy. Instead, the back wheel spun like buggery burying the wheel to the sprocket while spraying a huge roost of eastern suburbs terra firma over the fresh laundry on the clothesline. Suddenly the wheel grabbed traction and launched the bike, with a dumfounded me attached, straight across the backyard and directly into the two day old zincalume garden shed that was thankfully empty except for my mates TS90 Honcho. The RT1 and I went straight through one wall, creamed the Honcho enroute and eventually stalled while trying to exit through the opposite tin wall. The resulting carnage tally was a demolished garden shed, bent forks on the Yamaha, trashed tank and gauges on the Honcho, cuts, scratches and a badly dented ego on yours truly and a whole line full of clothing needing to go through the wash cycle again. It wasn't one of my better motorcycle experiences.
When we eventually pulled down the carby to see what was wrong, we found a 6mm allen bolt jammed under the slide...we never did find where it came from.
(We spent the next day dismantling the garden shed and straightening it the best we could before putting it all back together under the stern and watchful eye of my mates dad. To this day ou can still clearly see the dents in both wall and I swear there's still a little indentation in the lawn where the back wheel had dug its trench.)