luckylife's tale reminded me.
Mines almost verbatim. Almost.

Back when I rode motorised two wheel transport.
At that stage I had a "Postie Bike" which I'd got at an auction. It was cheap to run and went like the clappers.
Downhill.
With a tailwind.

Anyhoo, myself and the new guy at work went up to my local for libations and to perve at the skimpies after work on Friday arvo. The pub was about 4 blocks from my place and rather than be a clever, fit bastard I decided to be lazy and pootle up on the lawnmower engine.
A good, debauched and lascivious night was had by all and around closing we were poured out the back door. New guy suggested a cab. I knew better - my place just a stone's throw away with alcoholic beverages to suit even the most discerning palate (as long as they liked Glenmorangie and Emu Bitter).
But!
There was my scooter/bike/moped. It was locked up and I had the key, but....
So I started trundling it home beside me. On a pretty much a clear downhill run the whole way.
After about half a block it got fucking annoying so I decided "Fuck it!" and jumped on the beast and kick-started her into life.
But wait - there was a problem. Only 1 helmet. "You chuck it on and climb aboard." I said to New Guy. There I am sailing down the quiet streets my pillion passenger holding on tightly and whooping the whole way. I calmly turned into my street and turned gently into my driveway and dropped the bike.

New Guy had a nice soft landing on me. I passed out and came to in the shower where New Guy had eventually got me and was letting the shower clean me up as good as it could. I mumblingly told him to call a cab as I knew my missus would be home from her late shift soon. With him gone I (literally) crawled hands and knees into bed and passed out. Again.

I came to screaming in pain.
Apparently when my wife got home she saw me slumbering (with the injured side of my face on the pillow) and went about her nightly wind-down routine of some port, some cones and tv after grumbling about me having left the bike in the driveway.
Then she came to bed. Whilst I'd turned over in bed. And found herself face to (nearly no) face with something like a cross between Tromeo and the Predator. So she did what any good loving wife would do - she started cleaning me there and then with betadine. Which is when I woke up!

The next day she rang me up from her work every 15 mins to a halfa or got the neighbour to wake me up as I was essentially concussed and she'd had to go in and do an early. Once she got home we went to the chemist were we bought some dressings to draw some of the gravel out of the wound.
Sunday was spent at the [expensive] dr.'s and the [expensive] xray place.
One cracked occipital orb, some soft cheek/jaw tissue damage and probable concussion later I was home in bed being monitored with the rest of the week off from work. Yay!

Boss told me off, New Guy sheepishly said he did his best (he had) and the missus gave me an ultimatum - no more powered 2 wheel forms of locomotion. On pain of divorce.

I'm still married.
But my mate's new Ducatti SuperSport 900 looks like a fucking sweet ride....

TL;DR?
I drunk rode, managed not to kill or seriously maim anyone (thankfully) and got what I deserved.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 8:47, 14 replies)

A snifter of port and a 99, please!
Do the vans play Greensleeves?
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 8:57, closed)

This story is ruined, because i checked first to see s0ckpupet and realised the story did not end in death.
Except, another part of me died.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 9:39, closed)

And
we're both here now.

So, when Alby does his version are you ready to reciprocate with yours?

EDIT: Also kinda a difficult story to write if I was dead, really.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 9:57, closed)

Slacker.

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 10:15, closed)

I don't. As you've got me on ignore. So I can't see anything you post.

( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 10:36, closed)

How am I supposed to cut myself with a spoon?

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 10:38, closed)

Sharpen it with a whetstone.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 10:41, closed)

That hasn't seemed to stop
you in the past.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 11:31, closed)

But, you have to.
He made up the bit about his mate showering him, just to give you something to work with.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 15:52, closed)

Touché!

(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 20:07, closed)

Really.
my mate 's new Ducatti SuperSport 900 looks like a fucking sweet ride.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 10:48, closed)

My mat?

(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 11:30, closed)

Don't know what you are talking about.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 13:46, closed)

No.
I don't think you do.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 20:07, closed)