Black Friday Ride: Chris's story

Even though Chris is not yet a Rat because he hasn't completed his first Rat Bike, he displays all the qualities of an Oz Rat. This is his story about what happened when he left the Black Friday Ride...

So, here's the scoop

It was 2.20am and I was homebound from the Black Friday Ride, when the fun really started as I cruised through the freezing morning air.

I was wearing a black suit and wearing my modified cannonball helmet (God bless its shiny goodness), when I turned off Mouat St and onto Brigalow — Lyneham streets that I have frequented since I was old enough to ride.

Without any warning at all, a white 1987-9 bubbleback Ford Laser with yellow and black NSW rego plates (similar to the one pictured below) pulled over with a screech on my right, and four dudes immediately got out and surrounded me. I may have been mildly intoxicated (which is why I was riding on the footpath); enough to hit the brakes to avoid the weedy bitch in front of me. I came to a stop.

"GIVE US YOUR WALLET, YOUR BIKE AND YOUR HELMET" The biggest of the four yelled at me.

"Are you fucking joking? Think about what you're doing, boys."

The biggest one repeated his statement, so I did the same "Think about what you're doing, boys". Next thing I knew, I was knocked off the bike and was standing there surrounded by the four blokes. I think this was the last I saw of Zed's Dead. "GIVE US YOUR WALLET!!!" The big guy yelled. I was drunk enough to get pissed off.

"No. You're not getting shit. Suck my cock." It obviously wasn't the reply they wanted, and the big guy punched me in the side of the head, right in the helmet. What a moron. I continued to try and negotiate. "You're are trying to mug me in my own suburb?" Well, that didn't go down well, and soon I got smashed in the helmet again, this time by a weedy little bitch on my left that had a flattened down piece of metal pipe. The helmet stood up to the job of protecting my head, although I pretty quickly found myself on hands and knees anyway. I remember that I was quite startled that I had been knocked to the ground, and this only fuelled my anger, same as the volley of kicks that on my right hit me in the head and face, and on my left side, hitting me in the ribs.

I jumped up in an instant and looked left to see the little bitch swinging the metal bar at me again. Without even thinking about it (and who had time anyway...), I grabbed the bar straight out of his hands. This shocked them pretty good and gave me a second to turn it around and face them off.

"Right, now you're all fucked!!" I yelled, and pointed the sharp end at the weedy bitch closest to me. "You're first, and I'm gonna break your right arm, then I'm gonna break your left arm. Remember this when your mum is wiping your arse for the next six weeks!!!" He took a step back, and I swung it at the group in general so that I could keep some distance from them. I looked back at the big dude who had unsurprisingly given me some room by then, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the weedy bitch that had held the bar previously had turned to run back to the car. I swung the bar at the three that were left, and as I came closer, they backed off. I got a nice clean view of the Lasers number plate by this time, and read it aloud to them all.

"Now, you're extra fucked you cocksuckers". Yeah, I was really angry by this stage, so it wasn't really much of a surprise when they all bolted back to the car and jumped inside, tearing off at speed. All of a sudden, I was alone again, standing there, holding their metal bar. I looked down at it and realised that it was more of a sword with all but the handle hammered flat. So, I chalked it up as a victory and soon I was on the phone to one of my bro's to come down and pick me up. I don't know where the bike ended up, but with what has turned out to be some very minor injuries, a broken rib and some facial bruising, I'll post the pics of my helmet and the weapon that they had below. Enjoy.

What a pack of Dogs. Yes, I know, it would have been a very different story if I hadn't had the helmet on, I would be in hospital if I wasn't dead, and with the weapon and the obvious force that it had been used at, I'm extremely happy that a rib or two is all. Plus, I was totally defiant and as they drove off, I had their sword in left hand, with my right hands middle finger extended high for them to see out the rear window. I certainly did report it the next day, and I also had a printed photo of Zed's Dead to give the Police, as well as taking in the helmet to show them the damage to it. I certainly had a laugh later as another good look at the helmet indicated that one of the studded spikes that is on it has been visibly moved with force, most likely by a kick. I'd love to know how much pain the fucker is in that kicked me, and I bet they didn't expect any result anywhere near the one that they got. Sure, they got the bike, but it is one of the most unique looking things in Canberra, and I ended up not only with my pride intact against four bitches, but I walked away with their weapon and one of them has a stud punctured foot. Ha ha ha ha. I told the story the next day to my good mate Ben, and he thinks it ranks as one of the my best stories yet. I don't think he's too far off the truth. Below: now-not-so-shiny helm and souvenir cowardly lametard weapon.

So, my ribs are sure a little sore, but with my current line of work, theres no issue of me not continuing my life as I have been. It will have less of an effect on me than last week's flu. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Bitches.

The Score so far:

Chris: 1
Try-hard, lametard muggers: nil

And, I'll leave the helmet as it is, as a good solid reminder of Friday's Rat Ride, and I'm considering putting some more studs on it, but we'll see how we go. Thanks be to the black cannonball helmet, without which I would have gotten much, much closer to injury or death.

:D

Oh yeah, as another laughing point, the police asked me if the bike had a serial number on it. i looked at him for a bit, then at the photo, and told him, "Sure, its probably got about five." And that ain't too far from the truth, it does in fact, have five serial numbers!

PS. Thanks Limp, its some good advice and I'll get rid of the weapon, I've had my fun with it and now its just taking up space. I even thought about integrating it into a bike, but theres probably not much that could be done with it. Got some good laughs over the weekend about the whole issue, but mixing broken ribs and belly laughs has sure made me tender... hahaha.

Chris.