Quote:
Originally Posted by Particle Man
Sticking throttle = dangerous situation for sure
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This I know firsthand, as I had a throttle stick at the worst possible moment once on the GSP at about 70mph one night, about 6 years ago.
I had blipped the throttle to downshift hard, as someone had just cut across two lanes, and closed the door on me really badly, just as I was approaching from the rear, and I now found myself running up someone's ass...and
swiftly...unable to pass, and avoid the inexplicable gathering cluster of morons I was now being forcibly swept into.
Now, mind you; I'm down a gear, and I'm WOT. Fanfuckingtastic.
I didn't know I could do a sliding 70 mph nose wheelie. Neat. While managing to shut the throttle down too. Hmmm. Bonus.
That was shit, however, compared the the death wobble, when it came back down. Great. Now I know it's about to get really interesting.
Presence of mind and lightning intuitive reflex somehow saved me, as I stomped the rear brake in the middle of the oscillation exactly 1.5 wobbles in, and miraculously stopped it, dead (no way I could do any such things if I tried
on purpose, as I'd surely fucking kill myself...I can't even do a proper wheelie).
I casually put my turn signal on, and passed the rolling roadblocks that had tried to kill me without a flinch.
When I got to NYC, I found that the incident had weakened my cargo net, and my bag, with all my documents, and my Macbook, was missing.
Again, instinctively, I backtracked and found my shit like I had a fucking homing signal, turning around at the exact block I needed to, and finding my bag in the second lane from the right
on the West Side Highway. With NYC traffic steaming up from behind me as the light in my rearview went green, I hit the brakes immediately in front of my bag, and prayed I didn't get rear ended.
I bent down, and scooped up my bag, and rode up on to the sidewalk immediately at the first available curb cut, where I collapsed on the sidewalk to asses the damage.
My Macbook looked like a composition book someone had left in the rain.
My toiletries were shattered, and my documents soaked, but otherwise intact.
When I got to the hotel, I poured myself a hot bath, and only once inside did my heart even begin to race as I contemplated my evening.
Waiting to be damn fucking comfortable before you freak the motherfuck out is always best, I find.
What a fucking night.
Yeah...sticky throttle?
Sucks.