Big vice

[CRB]

Can't believe I collected that monster on a motorcycle with a rucksack!

?Honda step-thru with natty tartan panniers or a full dress Wing and sidecar.?

 

[MattF]

Can't believe I collected that monster on a motorcycle with a rucksack!

That I would love to have seen.

 

[Screwdriver]

I did write it up on another forum at the time, it nearly killed me! I'll see if I can find the article.

But no, just a rucksack and a Fazer thou.

S.

 

[eSCHEn]

Lol hadn't seen the gnome. I thought you'd used a small vice to show the scale of the larger vice

 

[mr migwire]

you want to spend £1600 on a buggati vice.......

http://www.prewarcar.com/classifieds/ad176719.html

 

[MattF]

I thought you'd used a small vice to show the scale of the larger vice

Not me. I did ask for a standard builders mug in the shot, but the new owner used that 3* series vice for scale instead.

 

[eSCHEn]

Not me. I did ask for a standard builders mug in the shot, but the new owner used that 3* series vice for scale instead.

Yeah yeah. You just wanted to see some hot vice on vice action. Prevert!

 

[Screwdriver]

you want to spend £1600 on a buggati vice.......

http://www.prewarcar.com/classifieds/ad176719.html

Looks a bit like a copy of my Wilton. Now that is a nice vice (needs restoring).

S.

 

[Screwdriver]

1. 
   Screwdriver - 30-05-08, 15:08
   
   Sorry am too shattered to come up with an hilariously punning title. Just picked up a Record number 36 off eBay.
   
   It's a monster <proud>
   
   Having bought it I made the almost fatal mistake of collecting it on the bike. Or rather on my back. Never again. Never - EVER!
   
   Now it wasn't merely blind folly, I looked up the spec so I knew it was big. I knew it was heavy, about 40kg (he says blithely) and I guessed correctly it would fit in my Kriega rucksack. Not only that, I knew the Kriega was up to the task and I calculated it would sit on the pillion seat.
   
   What I didn't cater for was my own fragile frame. Picture this; I'm at the yard and this huge bloke is looking very doubtfully at me, the bike and the ruckksack. "Yeah, it'll be fine" I lied. I crammed the vice into my 35 litre rucksack and barely half of it was left poking out. So far so good but I couldn't lift it. "Need a hand mate". "Um. Yeah ok"...
   
   Between the two of us we get the rucksack in place and I zipped up the Kriega. Suddely it's just like that stupid advert for <whateveritis> where the guy looks like he has a belt cutting into his chest. I can hardly breathe. I stand up and the strain cuts into my thigh like a dead leg and my head spins. **Language**. Not to be put off I lumber over to the bike and thank goodness, the weight sits on the seat and I can breathe.
   
   Unbelievably I decide to head off, head spins or not I gotta get going before I overheat and faint. On top of the weight, the tight strapping around my chest and the headspins, I am overdressed and the oppressive heat is getting to me. Only 20 mile to go, straight through the heart of London....
   
   I will skim over the details, maybe fill them in later, needless to say I was taking it easy for a change. Figures start whirling around. "Hmm, 40kg at 30mph, erm, 40mph..."
   
   I remember a table I made up once which calculates the height you need to jump off before you reach a certain speed. At 40mph thats over fifty feet! So if I hit something and dead stop it's like jumping off a three storey building. In actual fact it's more like jumping off a three storey building onto the back of a car while hanging onto a motorcycle with six stone of forged steel neatly poised over your spine.
   
   Gulp. Better not hit anything...
   
   So of course, I end up getting rammed by some **Language**wit in his Ford **Language**up Nobwagon. I'd seen the stupid thing, heard the stupid exhaust and yes, strictly speaking My lane should turn right instead of going up past Earls Court but the two lanes open into three in a lovely sweeping left/right chicane. Except I can't sweep majestically with Barry McGuigan strapped to my back. So I'm slow off the line and Mr Focus <number plate witheld> cut me up on the inside to my left threequarter. I'm in lane three he's in two and three wanting to nip around me. I don't want to get swept into the curb so I resist by just subtly drifting into the centre of my lane.
   
   Then I have to slow down for the lights. **Language**. He doesn't care and bumps me. He gives the back of my bike a long slow push with the nose of his car. I steer out of it and accelerate as much as I can. Right then. We'll see about that. I stop dead right in front of him and he gives my back wheel a little nudge. We're playing for keeps. I am suddenly reminded of the weight on my back. ********. I can't even turn around, let alone leap off the bike and sort him out. I'm a sitting duck.
   
   I **Language** off sharpish and pull over to look at the damage on my bike. There is none? He drives past and I follow until he gets stuck. I glance over at his car. **Language** Me! I seem to have ripped half his front wing off and much of the bumper. Ooops. Time to get outta here.
   
   Back home it transpires I caught him with a combination of rear passenger footrest and the end of the swingarm.
   
   I'm not even sure where to put the bloody vice now. Time for MotoGP Bench II I reckon...
   
   
   Screwd.
   

 

[CRB]

1. 
   He gives the back of my bike a long slow push with the nose of his car.
   Screwd.

It is not 'funny' when that happens, and less so when you are not expecting it.

I was sat at lights once and the Lemon starts moving forward from underneath me. Flamin' 7 1/2 ton' pushing' me forward.

Cue big thump on the grille, and angry look.

 

[Screwdriver]

Not dissimilar to the response I got all those years ago:

Originally Posted by D.S.
Should have dumped it on his bonnet

I honestly considered it. The only thing stopping me was the risk of being slightly killed.

Screwd.

 

[Screwdriver]

...and to finish off the story, this is the vice I just sold.

In keeping with the memory of this beloved mechanical contraption, I decided to deliver it by hand. I looked around for any number of ways to carry it, including my trusty Kriega but no, despite the buyer being close to an underground stop, just getting the thing on my back (again) would be a disaster in itself. I settled on my old trusty Samsonite case. A huge, extra strong hunk of plastic with wheels and a handle. I was surprised it actually fitted being so long plus the awkward handle but the case is big and deep.

Colliers wood from Ealing Broadway looks like two short hops and it wasn't until I was well on my way I began to wonder how many flights of steps there would be on the way. Not many as it turned out and the journey was, err, uneventful.

I am home now.

The End.

 

[slim_boy_fat]

I am home now.

And resting