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Can anyone top Pete?

B

blue65coupe

Well-Known Member
Below is a post about a screw up...I mean misfortune. I just want to know if it can be topped.

I hate this....

Working on getting the blue '66 running prior to the restoration (Spring of '99) we did in Az. Nothing had been removed from the body yet but I was tuning the 289 so the shop would have an easier time moving it around based on their layout.

Parked outside my garage on a slight downhill slope, drivers door open, hood up, me adjusting things. Got the points, idle, timing and carb just perfect. Had stopped and started the car numerous times with no incidents. On the last tweaking of the tune, I blipped the throttle as one does to be sure it returns to an idle correctly........

The next thing know, the car is backing away from me.....not just rolling but driving backwards. It is headed for our pump house (30 feet away) which just had a new tank and electrics installed. Well, I ran like hell (had a short thought to pull the coil wire but...) to get around the door and regain control....ya, right.

I manged to get around the door and get my right hand on the right side of the wheel and turn it to miss the pump. My left hand was on the top of the rolled up window. As the steering wheel turned, my body went to the ground....my ass is now dragging with one hand on the wheel, one hand on the top of the window and the left front tire threatening my family jewels.

The car misses the pump house, but the bottom of the door catches a LARGE boulder and folds over to the front fender. The top corner of the window tears a hole in the corrugated tin on the pump house as my tail bone bounces over 8 foot of bowling ball size rocks bordering the flower bed around the pump house.

The car continues backwards for another two car lengths and stops as the rear axle high centers on a large bush and cactus, purring with a perfect idle.

I slowly reach for the key and stop all the fun. As I am rolling from under the car, my Dad steps out of the shop where he was working and asked me if the car got away from me, and stepped back into the shop. I was so pissed over the entire ordeal that I launched a 6" Craftsman phillips screwdriver over the garage to the south and it was never seen again. I actually never dropped the screwdriver thru all this.

The damage to me.....

My ass was sore as hell, both arms felt like they had been pulled from my body, I was emotionally scared for life, or at least until a few beers were consumed, and I think it took a week for the manly parts to reveal themselves again.

The damage to the car....

One new drivers door, one new left front fender, one set of door hinges, repair work to the hinge mounting area, one set of interior handles. The fender and door were in great shape prior to this......

The damage to tools.....

One lost screwdriver, one damaged (by the fan) remote starter.

Now, WTF happened. I sat in the car the next day and reved the engine as I did when tuning. After 5-6 revs, the car started backing up. What I found was the shifter bushings in the auto shifter were real bad and allowed enough play in the shifter for it to engage reverse from the vibrations of reving the engine. I parked the car, blocked the wheels, and ordered parts. It took me a good year before I would trust that transmission again.

Now, this is the only place I have told this other than to a good friend here and there so keep it quiet please.......
 
Well, this wasn't exactly Mustang related, but it did have a bicycle and a tractor involved.


Many years ago, Deb convinced me to go bike riding with her, keep in mind I was a$$ deep in the Mustang restoration at the time. She has had a "mountain" bike for years, but hated riding by herself. I went and borrowed my sisters bike, plain jane 1 speed, girl bike.

Where we lived at the time, it was a short way on gravel road, then the rest of the roads were chiprock (Kansas idea of pavement; loose rock in an oil concoction).

We head out and me being......me, am always taking off and speeding ahead, turn around and speed back as she rides at a normal boring pace. We crest a small hill and see my neighbor's son heading home in their giant John Deere 4WD tractor. We close in on him and I give him the "look" and rag on him that I'd blow the doors off that POS :ecit

He floors it and I jump up on the pedals, I'm putting every ounce of strength I have and blast down on the pedals....one rotation....two rotations and as I hit the 3rd power stroke the freak'n chain flies off. Imagine in you mind what might possibly happen.
My feet spin at supersonic speed as now there is NO force against them with the chain flailing about. My leaning forward compined with this newfound speed catapults me over the front handle bars, the bike flipping over on top of me and driving my arms and face into the chiprock. Thankfully I didn't flip sideways which would have put me under the tractor tires and probably my immediate death.

As I'm sliding face first on my arms and face, I'm thinking about how pissed Deb's going to be. I finally come to a stop and realize that most of the skin on my arms and chunks of my face are scattered behind me in the gravel. My glasses are destroyed and the bike is a twisted mess.
Deb immediately goes into nurse mode (having acquired this skill after marrying me). She gets Willy (neighbor on tractor) to help me up and into the cab. She tosses the bikes over to the edge of the road and instructs Willy to head to his house. We get there and his mom and dad come out (very good friends of ours) and they inspect the damage. They bring out a chair and some orange juice, followed closely by towels, water, more towels and more water. Since my glasses are buried in the road, I can't see past my nose, so I have no idea how bad I'm messed up. I can tell I have lost a good amount of blood from the lightheaded feeling that creeps up.

They get me triaged and John drives Deb back to our house to get a car. She returns ina few minutes and they load me in with all the towels draped over me so as not to ruin the car seats with blood. She drives 20 minutes to the closest ER. We get out and by now, I have no feeling in my face or arms and my chest is killing me. As we walk into the ER (empty, lucky me) I hear people gasping and whispering (holy crap). Someone comes up and asks what happened, I mumbled that I had a bike accident, they ask if I was wearing a helmet, my response...WTF would a wear a helmet on a bicycle? Dead silence ensued and then someone says; THIS is from a bicycle accident???

After Deb explains, they take me into an area, put me up onto a table and then what seemed like 50 people, start working on me. They spend forever digging out the chiprock that has embedded itself in my arms and face. Another person is sticking needles in me and still another starts stitching my face and arms up.

I think I was there for around 3 hrs, I left with my arms completely bandaged up and bandages all over my face. They also check my ribs to find that I had fractured 2 of them. Blood had covered my shirt, pants, shoes...it was everywhere.

Got home, took some pills, took a few weeks to recover, still have the scars and I gave up bike riding.


Yes, I'm a moron, but we all still laugh about it today :lol

Wish I had pics.
 
"Midlife" said:
Linda, Pete's wife.
Click to expand...

LOL, Randy you crack me up. Its pretty apparent with all of your posts that you have a one track mind. Well, maybe add beer and make it two tracks, but regardless, too funny.
 
I was telling my dad about Pete's story, and he had this one.

Don't recall the exact year, but it would have been '69ish. My dad had a 66 Hertz car, and he took it to the local Ford dealer to get repainted (its 4th color at the time, first being black, then red, then yellow, and dad painted it blue). This was July in Pennsylvania, and they finished the blue paint and white stripes early in the morning. Dad took the car home and parked it out back outside, ie, in the sun. By mid afternoon the paint had bubbled, presumably from the heat. So the paint job didn't last say 6 hours and he had the car back at the dealership to get sanded and repainted all over again.

Lot of funny stories about that car, like doing the oil change where the dip stick showed a full pan of oil but the drain pan only collected 2 quartz. The tear down for a rebuild on the then 4 year old engine found a bucket of sludge, a couple bent pushrods and valves, etc, etc. Supposedly that hipo with 2 quarts of oil and those bent valves and pushrods still ran like raped ape.
 
"silverblueBP" said:
Well, this wasn't exactly Mustang related, but it did have a bicycle and a tractor involved.


Many years ago, Deb convinced me to go bike riding with her, keep in mind I was a$$ deep in the Mustang restoration at the time. She has had a "mountain" bike for years, but hated riding by herself. I went and borrowed my sisters bike, plain jane 1 speed, girl bike.

Where we lived at the time, it was a short way on gravel road, then the rest of the roads were chiprock (Kansas idea of pavement; loose rock in an oil concoction).

We head out and me being......me, am always taking off and speeding ahead, turn around and speed back as she rides at a normal boring pace. We crest a small hill and see my neighbor's son heading home in their giant John Deere 4WD tractor. We close in on him and I give him the "look" and rag on him that I'd blow the doors off that POS :ecit

He floors it and I jump up on the pedals, I'm putting every ounce of strength I have and blast down on the pedals....one rotation....two rotations and as I hit the 3rd power stroke the freak'n chain flies off. Imagine in you mind what might possibly happen.
My feet spin at supersonic speed as now there is NO force against them with the chain flailing about. My leaning forward compined with this newfound speed catapults me over the front handle bars, the bike flipping over on top of me and driving my arms and face into the chiprock. Thankfully I didn't flip sideways which would have put me under the tractor tires and probably my immediate death.

As I'm sliding face first on my arms and face, I'm thinking about how pissed Deb's going to be. I finally come to a stop and realize that most of the skin on my arms and chunks of my face are scattered behind me in the gravel. My glasses are destroyed and the bike is a twisted mess.
Deb immediately goes into nurse mode (having acquired this skill after marrying me). She gets Willy (neighbor on tractor) to help me up and into the cab. She tosses the bikes over to the edge of the road and instructs Willy to head to his house. We get there and his mom and dad come out (very good friends of ours) and they inspect the damage. They bring out a chair and some orange juice, followed closely by towels, water, more towels and more water. Since my glasses are buried in the road, I can't see past my nose, so I have no idea how bad I'm messed up. I can tell I have lost a good amount of blood from the lightheaded feeling that creeps up.

They get me triaged and John drives Deb back to our house to get a car. She returns ina few minutes and they load me in with all the towels draped over me so as not to ruin the car seats with blood. She drives 20 minutes to the closest ER. We get out and by now, I have no feeling in my face or arms and my chest is killing me. As we walk into the ER (empty, lucky me) I hear people gasping and whispering (holy crap). Someone comes up and asks what happened, I mumbled that I had a bike accident, they ask if I was wearing a helmet, my response...WTF would a wear a helmet on a bicycle? Dead silence ensued and then someone says; THIS is from a bicycle accident???

After Deb explains, they take me into an area, put me up onto a table and then what seemed like 50 people, start working on me. They spend forever digging out the chiprock that has embedded itself in my arms and face. Another person is sticking needles in me and still another starts stitching my face and arms up.

I think I was there for around 3 hrs, I left with my arms completely bandaged up and bandages all over my face. They also check my ribs to find that I had fractured 2 of them. Blood had covered my shirt, pants, shoes...it was everywhere.

Got home, took some pills, took a few weeks to recover, still have the scars and I gave up bike riding.


Yes, I'm a moron, but we all still laugh about it today :lol

Wish I had pics.
Click to expand...
What, no ear damage.
shrug.gif
 
"70 StangMan" said:
What, no ear damage.
shrug.gif
Click to expand...

Thank goodness. That's probably where they took the skin for the grafts. LMAO Mark. That is way too funny. I had a gnarly bike accident one time but it pales in comparison. My side is killing me right now. "WHAT??? A bicycle????"
 
I could do the one from Thailand, including some Segrams 7, 6 cases of beer, a bicycle, a concrete ditch and 3 cracked ribs......but I will refrain.
 
"blue65coupe" said:
Fess up.
Click to expand...

HaHaHa.......

Let's see, it was 1974, Korat, Thailand.....at 22, there because the Air Force said I was needed for the F105 Fighter. Thailand was a drunk place for sure. Since cars were a premium, I had purchased a 26" 3 speed bicycle to get around the base. Problem was that everyone else used it also and locks didn't help, seems like all keys worked. I never knew where it was.

Sooooo, I had an extended front fork built that put a 20" wheel about 6 foot out in front of the bike (lost all pictures). I was the only one that could ride it after that. Moving on, a drinking associate of mine and I decided that the fork could be modified for strength to carry about 6-8 cases of beer. We had that done and it worked great.....unless one tried to haul beer after consuming a bottle of Segrams 7 for (not with) supper that evening.

I left the club on base after the Segrams was gone, bought 6 cases of beer for the evening supply, bungie corded them on the bike fork and headed for the hootch. About half way thru the mile ride, I was along an 8 foot wide, 6 foot deep concrete lined dry ditch. For some reason, the bike decided it wanted me in the ditch. It thru me like a wild horse would. I went down hard, followed by the bike with the beer secured. Ouch.....but I really felt nothing.

After being assisted back on the road by the Security Police patrol, I rode to the hospital. With a cold beer in hand, I walked into the ER and told them of some sore ribs. After being examined, they found a tire mark on my right side that matched the front tire of the bike, and a large bruise from a square cornered object......a beer case.

Three cracked ribs, bent front wheel, skinned arms, no repercussions from the AF, and the important fact......no ruined beer cans.

Next day I could hardly move but an early dose of Segrams 7 and a beer chaser got the morning started.

Ya all happy now?
 
Are you sure of the year? Because I was on WESTPAC in 2004 and other than the extended fork for holding the beer, the conditions were unchanged.
 
Positive :lol :lol

The bike is most likely still in country somewhere too.

I found out one really has to watch those bicycles when they get wild and drunk.
 
"70 StangMan" said:
What, no ear damage.
shrug.gif
Click to expand...
Actually, before the accident, his ears were normal sized. When his face hit the chipseal, it forced all of the skin that was on his face into each ear. :vic
 
"AzPete" said:
...after consuming a bottle of Segrams 7 for (not with) supper that evening.

...For some reason, the bike decided it wanted me in the ditch. It thru me like a wild horse would.
Click to expand...

:lol :lol :lol
 
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