Went the day badly?

[NorfolkNWeigh]

I was just reading TiffX19's tales and it made me think about having a bad day on the road. I've had few,the first(worst?)

 

I was doing a bit of agency work as a teenager driving a Merc 307d delivering steaks to Beefeaters in South Wales. On this particular day at my first drop in Newport the van wouldn't restart , phone call to base in MK and they got a local truck place to come out ,towed it with a Bedford TK,diagnosed knackered starter and told me not to switch it off till I got back to the yard. WCPGW?

 

In Cardiff City Centre I loaded my little sack truck and wheeled it into the kitchen,went back for the rest and. Yes,it was gone, complete with my jacket and wallet . This was before mobiles,so I walked to the Police Station,reported the theft and they called my boss. He wasn't chuffed as you can imagine, but FairPlay to him ,he sent the warehouse manager to get me in his(the bosses) nice new black XR4i.

 

Three hours later he arrives,gives me loads of shit ,then tells me to drive as he's knackered, result!

He woke up to see the speedo well into 3 figures on a bit of the Fosse Way near Chipping Norton, cue him bollocking me even more and making me stop and him driving from there. Off we set ,with him showing me 'how to drive a performance car'. I promptly fell asleep, I woke to the sight of a massive oak tree coming towards my window followed by sky,hedge,sky,grass,sky then nothing.

I regained consciousness about 10 feet from the balled up remains of the XR4, which was steaming and dripping petrol all over the place, the warehouse manager was still unconscious in the driving seat,the screen had fallen in across his hands and face ,I thought he was dead but pulled him out anyway as I was worried about all the petrol.

We were so far off the road that no one could see us,and when I tried to flag down a car the first few just swerved round me , I was covered in mud and blood and it was dark.

After a night in Banbury Hospital and me coming up with a blowout story to save the warehouse managers arse, everyone forgot about bollocking me for the van which turned up later the same day. Still probably not my best day on the road.

[Lankytim]

Wow, What a shitty day! bet nobody can top that!

[garethj]

This is shamelessly stolen from a motorbike forum, the story of a bloke called Carl as told by one of his mates.



Ever know someone who survives in spite of being a complete & utter wally ALL the time?

Let me introduce such a person by the name of Carl Gaines, He must be in his 40's by now (assuming he's still alive). He's about 6'8 & 9 stone.

Heres a few things this guy has done:

Pootling along on a VERY old Suzuki 100 (H reg, the FIRST time around, '68?). Car pulls out in front of him, he brakes, car accelerates, he accelerates, car brakes, he continues to accelerate right into the back of it & goes over the top. Lands in front of car. Gets up, rides home.
Complains of wrist pain, I take him to Addenbrookes. He ends up with his right wrist in a cast. next day he complains about pain in left wrist. I again take him to Addenbrookes & bring him home with 2 casts on... His father looks at him, looks at me & says "NOW what the fuck did he do???" I explain that it's a continuation of the previous crash
2 weeks later he has the plaster replaced by fiberglass because he broke the casts using em as hammers to loosen wheel nuts.
6 weeks after the accident i take him back to Addenbrookes. We exit the hospital just as an SR71 fly's over on it's way to Mildenhall. Carl looks up, trips over kerb, re breaks left wrist as he falls flat on his face in the middle of the carpark. His dad was SO impressed with that one....

Carl buys CG125 to replace bent Suzuki. It won't start & he requests a tow from his place (Chesterton) to his dad's place (near Bourne). Only person available is me, only vehicle is his dad's 750 Virago with sidecar...
I attach rope to rollbar on sidecar, Carl ties the other end around his chest. I pull away, he flies over the bars & I drag him about 40ft up Chesterton High St.
We try again
This time he ties rope to handlebars, I pull CG125 out from underneath him & drag the bike 40ft up Chesterton High St.
We try one more time
SUCCESS!! so off we go, about every mile or so along the A45 he would drop the bike in gear & let out the clutch. This would result in a smoke screen of WWII Destroyer proportions. Takes about an hour, but I get him to his dads place.
His dads comment: "NOW what the fuck has he bought? & how the hell did he get all that gravel rash from being towed???"

Carl decides to fix the Suzuki, whilst straightening out the crash damage & doing a test ride he seizes the engine. He takes the engine apart & drops the cylinder off in Cambridge for boring.
2 weeks later his dad is having a party. Carl offers me "£10 to bolt the head on". Sounds like a bargain to me, 10 quid for 4 nuts? done deal!.
However, at the party he hands me a box containing the head, barrel, piston, rings, wrist pin, small end bearing,gaskets & some other bits. The price goes up & he agrees to pay the increased price.
I assemble the engine on the back patio at the end of the garden, about 150ft from the house. I tell him it's all done & to start it.
It starts 3rd kick.....

and immediately redlines itself, it's revving at about 10K rpm....

I yell at Carl to turn the key off, he yells back that it's stuck in the on position...

I yell at him to him the kill switch.....

He yells back that doesn't have one

I yell at him to turn off the fuel tap

He yells back that it's jammed

I yell "goodbye" & fuck off a bit sharpish before it explodes...

Carl takes the hint & follows me down the garden back to the house in record setting time.

After 2 or 3 minutes the revs dies down, I run back to the bike & knock the plug cap off. Silence has never been so golden.

At this point Carl produces a previously unseen bike part from his pocket & asks if this has anything to do with it....
It's the idle adjustment screw.... I pick up a nearby hammer, Carl's dad tells me not to waste good tools on thick skulls.
I install the screw start bike & it idles perfectly.... Carl then asks me about *running in* & then can't work out why everyone is falling about in hysterics.

And then there was another party......
Carl has somehow come to realise that people won;t hear the doorbell when the stereo is going tits out. He rigs up the doorbell to a strobe light in the front room. He forgets to tell anyone else about this & the first I know about it is about an hour into a pile of mushrooms I think aliens are landing when someone "rings the bell".
And then the fireworks come out, me & his dad set off a few dozen bottles rockets, holding them in one hand while igniting them with the other. We're doing this sat on the windowsill & firing into the back garden.
Carl decides he wants to try this, gets about 6 bottlerockets in his left hand, Zippo in right hand, both hands out of said window. Lights the blue touch paper and.......

His girlfriend walks into the room, says *Hi Carl* & the silly bastard turns around just as the rockets ignite...
GREAT! now we have one moron, one scared girl & a half dozen or so people in the throws of mushroom madness all trying to avoid the 6 rockets now railing around the room, bouncing off walls etc.

While all this was going on, Carl's dad had gone to answer the door. I'm also in the hallway

It was the Police...

They've come about the fireworks....

Carl's dad is doing a fine job of telling them it must have been next door & almost has them convinced. They ask about screaming coming from inside the house.

Carl (the main source of the screaming)opens the living room door at this point, runs past me, his dad & the cops into the front garden. Rocket zooms along the hallway. Carls dad ducks, I duck, Cop moves his head to one side as rocket goes whizzin past his ear & explodes directly behind his head. *WHOOOMPH!!*. The garden lights up like the opening day at the fucking Somme. I'm on the floor just about pissing myself laughing.
Carl's girlfriend runs screaming past all of us with a bunch of burning curtains in her arms. Carls dad, in one of the greatest understatements of the 20th Century looks at the cops & says "You look a tad upset Officer, would you like a cup of tea?"
Fire Brigade arrive, luckily the only burning items are the pile of curtains on the lawn.
How no one went to jail is still a mystery.


Remember back a while ago? none of his bikes are working? well his pushbike was....
Me & his dad are going to work one morning along Newmarket road. We're in/on the sidecar outfit. We bump into Carl & he aks for a tow, grabs hold of the roll bar & away we go. Carl asks that we keep it down to 15mph. We get up to 25mph, I tell Carl we're doing 15mph, he says go faster, we get to 35mph, I tell him we're doing 20mph, we slow down for the big roundabout at Newmarket Rd/East Rd/Maids Causeway. Carl is enjoying himself as we nail it down past the Zebra pub. We're doing 45mph, he thinks we're doing 25mph.
There is traffic at the other end of the road down by King St. Carls dad hits the brakes, Carl doesn't. He barely avoids 2 or 3 cars & then he's into the roundabout, bounces off the side of 3 different cars (still doing about 45mph) & heads off up the street on the other side of the roundabout.
Then he makes his almost fatal mistake
He turned round, waves goodbye to me & his dad, hits the kerb, gets airborne & disappears down someone cellar steps, still attached to the bicycle. There are trashcans at the bottom of the steps. We hear the crash from the other side of the roundabout.
His dad looks at me, I look at him. He has tears in his eyes & says "I'm fucking SURE that idiot isn't related to me".

[mat_the_cat]

bet nobody can top that!

 

Not even Hyundai Stellar based (lack of) lesbian shenanigans can top that!

[daveb47]

Old one but nearly died laughing when ii first read it.

 

I never dreamed that slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect. I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.

It was a squirrel and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close! . I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle; but a squirrel should pose no danger to me.

I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened; and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular. He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel.

And losing...

I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there.

It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands; and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of! a Valkyrie can only have one result.

Torque.

This is what the Valkyrie is made for; and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared, and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in - well, I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back.

The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration, I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.

This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices; but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle. My brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time, the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death); and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment); so her front end started to drop.

Now, picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now, the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally, I got the upper hand. I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked - sort of.

Spectacularly sort of ...so to speak.

Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly, a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throw! was a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams.

They weren't mine.

I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. Except for two things.

First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.

So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.

That was one thing. The other?

Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car, but it was all his.

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And awhole lot of Band-Aids.

[scruff]

Sat here with tears running down my face reading of the famous Carl.

[gordonbennet]

This wasn't my letter, but i too was an unfortunate 'customer' of NTL, far too long to tell my silly story which culminated in a debt collection agency telephoning me whilst sipping cocktails on the Orient Express as we traversed the Swiss Alps...see you in court was my reply, which didn't happen as i have never owed anyone a bean and could prove it.

 

Anyway this is the letter in question, i wish i was quite so eloquent.

 

 

 

Dear Cretins,

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.

My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website....HOW?

I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept. The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools - such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.

I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly skilled bollock jugglers.

I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that no telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman...and several other variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustration's in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought BT were shit, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.

British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless employees.

Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.

John

[michael t]

@Daveb47: It may be not be England, but demonic squirrels really do exist, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/4489792.stm

[bub2006]

I actually had a bad night Saturday. A car swerved towards me while flassjing its lights on a country lane near me. I turned bike round to see if he OK. It turns out it was a couple of 20 somethings being twats. I was threatened to be stabbed so i turned round and went back way i came as its a rough area and didn't fancy my chances. He turned car round and run into back of my bike,overtook me and then pushed my bike to the kerb with his car. Cue more threats and he started messing around in door pockets. I mount kerb and go on my way. Police informed and i get told its only road rage so they MAY have a word with him. I gave them reg,description and even his frigging address. Half hour later i nip to takeaway. 10.15 Saturday night in busy town center. Ten mins later come outside to find bike missing. Another police phone call. Bike found Sunday morning. Was thrown over a 10 foot wall. On a good note bike only suffered broken indicator, bent luggage rack and broke fairing.

[Mr_Bo11ox]

Anyone remember that series in Classic and Thoroughbred called 'went the day badly'? Some good stories in there about road tests that went to shit. Used to love reading those when i was a kid. I remember one about crashing a BMW E3 saloon 4-up at fairly high speed, and the radio still playing flipping 'hooked on classics' or some other plinky-plonky shit to the 4 bemused testers still strapped inside the upturned wreck after it came to rest, and one of them asking if it could possibly be turned down a little.

[eddyramrod]

This wasn't my letter,

 

It looks awfully like some of the emails I sent Tesco about their so-called service!  Fortunately I discovered Plusnet...

 

Bub, damn, that was a bad day!  Road Rage?  Correct me if I'm wrong but it sounds more like "direct threat to kill" to me, or even "attempted murder" which surely merits a bit more action.  You need to take that up the chain of command.  If you feel up to it, that is.

[bub2006]

A MAG representative i spoke to said that it should be classed as driving without due care and as you say threats to kill and attempted murder with a vehicle. He said to speak to IPCC if they refuse to do anything. I seen the car at 10 past 1 in the morning while driving round looking for my bike

[bub2006]

Still shook up. I can hold my own if i have to but i aint going to stand a chance at a tons worth of Audi a3

[eddyramrod]

I should think you are!  I'd be trading in that bike for a Volvo estate, in your place...  Agree with the IPCC suggestion though, keep it in mind.

[MrDuke]

That's where helmet cameras come in very useful - there's a clip on Youtube where a cyclist receives 'death threats' from a driver, and he subsequently took it through court successfully.

[Station]

There was a thread on Migweb like this - one was having a car going over the front end of his car (due to sloping front end) in a crash. When he looked behind to check if the rear passengers were OK, they had both been decapitated!

[bub2006]

Helmet cam is definatly on the cards. As for selling bike,no chance! Its a old Honda c90. Reliability and economy is what i need and the old girl has always done me proud. Rising in value too. That driver will get his comeuppance. Anyway back to the thread,that Carl had me in stitches

[ShiteRider]

Probaly not to be condoned, but could you not just nitromors the cunt's car.   Obviously it's easy for me to say from behind a keyboard, but things like this are the only thing these retards understand.

[purplebargeken]

Agreed^^

[Ghosty]

Vigilante justice or not, something has to be done.

[bub2006]

Pinhole in bottom of bottle placed on roof. No. I don't condone vigilante acts at all.......

A few biker friends have had issues with a black car at night in the area but never got reg. Driving at them or swerving. Sounds like same guy so a few folk are upset.

[ShiteRider]

Pretend he's private Pyle from full metal jacket, then you and the rest of the bikers can knock fuck out of him with socks filled with bars of soap, it's not vigilantism.....it's education.

Seriously though, this person sounds dangerously stupid and you should kick up a fuss with the cops. He sounds like a shit house, picking on lone fellas with his mate (if your on a ning-a-ning, he probaly thinks you're a kid), to make himself feel the big man from the safety of his car.

Karma will kick in, he'll pick on the wrong guy and end up with a wheel brace 'round his knapper. So if you look at it that way you're actually doing him a favour by having him arrested.

[Vince70]

Or Dog shit on the door handles and some old nails randomly placed around the tyres.

[bub2006]

If i wasn't suffering with hemi paresis and back problems he would have had a lid round his head. Ill see him again. When he is out his car and on his own.

[bub2006]

As i said though shite rider he has done it to bigger bikes too. And on that lane he couldn't have known the size of bike. Too much of a coincidence that other bikers have had a black Audi swerve at them but they never got reg or seen driver.

[mercrocker]

I had just turned 17 when a very similar episode took place on my C100 Honda - twat in a TR4 thought it would  be funny to try and run me off the road.  Plod cared not and said my word against his (and presumably his flea-twot of a bird).   Proper shook me up and that feverish nausea between anger and fear I can still remember.  Never did find the merkin.   Also, why is it if you insinuate a mild threat on line the rozzers are  knocking at the door but when somebody really tries to  do you they don't give a monkeys?

[MrDuke]

Seriously, assuming he makes a habit of it, either: 1) he simply doesn't realise that he could very easily cause massive injury or death by his actions, and thinks it's akin to chucking water balloons or something, in which case he's clearly mentally defective and shouldn't be allowed to hold a license (or breed, or vote, or be in public unsupervised), or 2) he knows full well what he's doing and what the consequences could be, in which case he's no different to someone who randomly shoots or stabs strangers for fun, and deserves every ounce of misery that can be inflicted on him, legally or otherwise.

[bub2006]

Either of them options warrant a slap to me duke! He obviously did it on purpose but when he first swerved i thought he may have been having a funny turn or some such. When i turned round to see if he OK i get threatened to be stabbed. Passenger had a hoody and a scarf so could only see his eyes. When he rammed me then pulled alongside and you got this shady fucker fidgeting in passenger seat i thought its get the hell out of dodge. He over took me and then did a handbrake turn in middle of road so obviously has no concern for his vehicle. He must be stupid to think i didn't or wouldn't take his reg number. How much is a 2009 model Audi a3 1.9tdi s line 100bhp model worth?!

[fordperv]

Bub2006 stay safe fella, that sounds a very lucky escape but at least you werent hurt, its a shame they stole your bike and damaged it, did you get the reg number? My thinking would be as well as passing it to the police also issue it to your local outlaws or similar bike gang as the guys are obviously targeting bikers so need a bit of re education, which area are you from and what lane were you on? so I can pop a post up on a bike club to warn folks

[bub2006]

I am from derbyshire. The incident happened on the coach road near iron ville. The biking group i am a member of knows about it and it was a few of them who said they had the same type of occurrence in the area. I told police the reg,car description and drivers description as well as where he live as i seen the car on a driveway after bike was stolen when i was driving round looking for bike.