I've come pretty close to figuring in this lineup a few times
Back in '84 I picked up a brand new Russian side-car outfit for the princely sum of £2,000:00. All black & shiny, it was sitting outside my flat on this particular Sunday morning when I determined to head out for a day's hacking around the Devon lanes.
The road outside was one-way, but just 20 yards back downhill it was two-way where another road diverged from it which happened to be the route I wanted to take.
Well, it was a quiet Sunday morning with no traffic around and very quiet, and my new ride had the unique feature of a reverse gear that I had yet to try out. So I donned my leathers, picked up my lid and went out into the sunshine.
After going through the strange ritual of the outward-swinging kick-start, and having the satisfaction of hearing the engine fire and settle down into that smooth, shuffling rhythm that only a Boxer engine can make, I reached down and shifted the chunky aluminium lever that engaged reverse. There was a mild clonk from the gearbox - so far, so good - and so I eased out the clutch lever and rolled on some throttle....
.....and all Hell broke loose!
As fast as you could read that last line the outfit tore off backwards down the street.....and I got a first-hand lesson in the 'castor effect' and how it works!
You all must know that oscillation that develops when you start rolling a P-39 up the runway? A little shimmy that has to be controlled by a gentle hand on the gas and the rudder to keep you rolling up the centre of the track? Well, try to imagine doing that tail-first and then factor in the additional problems of drive from only one wheel, plus the front wheel becoming the rear wheel which is also offset. So I'm not trying to steer an isosceles triangle but a right-angled triangle.
Confused? Not half as much as I was, hurtling erratically backwards and trying desperately to deal with that terrifying phenomenon known in motorcycling terms as a "tank-slapper", as the steering (and the handlebars!) flipped from lock to lock. Even now I can't remember that I did much to bring the rig under control. It's really difficult to operate clutch, throttle or brake when they're mounted on a bar that is wildly oscillating, but somehow we ended up halted about fifty yards back down the road, perched on the pavement six inches away from the plate-glass window of a florists shop on one side, and about the same distance from a shiny new Range Rover on the other.
I wasn't really surprised to hear that old Boxer was still purring away. My left hand was clinging to the bar and the clutch lever, and the ding in the fuel tank showed where the back of my thumb had been banged against it. Without letting go I leant down and eased the lever back into "forwards", silently vowing never to attempt any excursions in another direction again.
I know that one actually has to remove oneself utterly from the gene pool to have a hope of winning the not-so-coveted DA. I failed there, but you might definitely have seen old George back there, giving me ten points for method!
B