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chazz 07-01-2010 07:16 AM

ebay ad

specs Carrying capacity:
Australia - 1 adult
India - 43 adults, 75 children, 2 sitars, a cow and an Optus call centre

Fuel: Cord blood

Wheels: Just three, big fat ones
Frame: Unfortunately not coffin shaped
Top Speed: One of the 11 wonders of the world
Weight: Five slabs
Transmission: Five speed semi automatic (like an Uzi)
Country of Origin: Hell
Colour: Diarrhoea yellow

John Hopkins 07-01-2010 02:34 PM

Didn't make the reserve so.

Three out of the 641 people who asked questions or made comments about the Trike of Death insisted that I stop trying to be stupid and just write a normal ad. Just for them, here it goes:

Yelow trike runs well need to make moor roome cuz bying sumpfink faster hey no time waisters any questions plz ask no ofers.

And for the rest of us:

If you're like me, you've probably trodden in a fresh dog poo with bare feet. As bad as that sounds, at least you know straight away and can easily clean it off. With shoes on you may not even realise until you tread through someone's newly carpeted caravan, by which time it will be too late to escape the embarrassment even though it wasn't even your poo. Owning a trike is the same thing: At first you may not like it, but when you turn up to go riding and everyone else only has two wheelers or quads, you stand out for some really good reasons. Some might think, look, they can't balance on two wheels so they have a trike. They will soon be the ones with poo on their shoe once they see that the extra wheel does nothing for balance, unless the trike is standing still and chained to the ground.

In between the last two listings I thought I'd take the trike for another ride. Then I changed my mind, but it changed itself back three times until I found myself taking it for a ride. After dislocating my shoulder trying to start it with my left arm, I tried using my right arm but I had forgotten to turn the fuel on. It was a bit like going to the car and forgetting to take your keys with you, which you then realise are locked inside the house with your wallet and mobile phone. You break in via one of the windows, slicing through your jugular vein and end up dying eight times before you find your keys. Really annoying.

Once I got it going the trike was really out to get me. I took off up the gravel driveway and managed to keep it in a straight line by throwing my body weight around enough to end up underneath it, like a scene from Cape Fear. I got to the top of the driveway and thought that since it was taking a lot longer to sell than I expected, I may as well try it out on a tar road, after all, no bumps meant more speed.

I ended up riding up the road like a damsel in distress, mainly because I forgot my helmet once again. I felt really stable on the trike and was surprised how well the suspension soaked up bumps, until I hit a painted white line on the road which sent me so airborne that I ran out of oxygen and wet my pants. When I landed, I realised that I hadn't even left the road but my vivid imagination had gotten the better of me. I started thinking that it would be a good thing to get the trike registered so that I could ride it on the road and perhaps tour the world on it. I thought of how much fun it would be to ride to work and the enjoyment I would get when it stalled just as the lights turned green. But it was fast, and fast is what you need when you want to get to work on time. So what if you have a fractured skull and as much skin left as a peeled banana, surely your workmates won't mind that you can no longer talk and that every time you cough, teeth come flying out. As if having your bowel draped over your shoulder ever stopped anyone from doing an honest days work. At least it would be better than catching the train.

I thought about the difficulties in getting it registered, indicators, brakes, steering wheel, it was all going to be too much. I decided that the trike should spend the rest of its life locked in a garage or gazing on humans and grass on my farm.

I now have two trikes, which I think is called a plague of trikes. One of the Trike of Death's fans spotted another one on ebay and taunted me with the fact that the other trike had a bigger motor, a 200cc. I knew I had to act quickly, so I clicked the buy it now button and picked the trike up the next day. There was no way I was going to let some other trike prance around thinking they were tough just because of their extra 25cc, no way. I was going to bring the trike home and after putting them together to mate, set fire to it and post the ashes to India to be turned into cardamom powder. However I couldn't destroy the new trike, because it was harmless.

Yes, it has a 200cc motor, but it's a four stroke which means that it idles but doesn't rev past 19,000 RPM. It also has electric start, which takes the fun out of the unpredictable and sadistic starting habits of the Trike of Death. It has reverse, which is handy for when you get stuck in places you shouldn't be, like Amway meetings. The Trike of Death doesn't have reverse and probably for a few good reasons. When you crash the Trike of Death, there isn't much chance of your body being able to muster up the strength to select reverse gear, especially when there is a tree sticking through your torso with your kidneys hanging off the branches like over ripe apples. There's also the safety aspect, because if the Trike of Death had reverse, it could go backwards so fast that the hair on the back of your head would thread its way through your skull and make your brain itch. The uncontrollable itch of 'hair brain' would mean you would take your hands off the otherwise useless handlebars to scratch yourself, at which point your arms would fly off in the wind and take out the overhead power lines. The resultant blackout caused by the shut down of the power grid would make everyone leave their homes only to be run over by a trike moving backwards at 120 km/h. There's also the problem of the exhaust smoke being blown back onto your Trike of Death T shirt, making you look silly.

The Trike of Death has no racks, but my latest trike does. I think these were fitted knowing that if there was going to be a serious pile-up, the riders of the two stroke trike would be the ones needing transport to the nearest hospital, morgue or cemetery. The racks look like they could hold a lot of weight, perhaps even a leopard.

When I took the four stroke trike for a ride, I felt safe and secure, and compared to riding the Trike of Death, I was bored. I tried to wheelstand the 200, but the front wheel stayed stuck to the ground like a tick on a snake. I used all the five gears and still didn't crash and no matter what I did, I couldn't get it sideways. By comparison, the Trike of Death needed only first gear to declare war on anything within a five mile radius, including the rider. Even looking at the sticker which tells you that it has five gears gave me a headache and rash. The Trike of Death will wheelstand just by opening the fuel cap. It also goes sideways on one wheel without even trying too hard. The Trike of Death makes UFC look like Swedish massage.

I know there are other trikes out there which are much faster and far more dangerous than the Trike of Death, but like most venomous creatures do, they display their potential with vivid colours, like the blue ringed octopus, the red back spider and the pink striped fairy slapper. The Trike of Death is yellow, plain old diarrhoea yellow. Yellow is meant to mean safety (except yellow snow). Yellow is a colour that psychologists suggest you should paint your bedroom if you have trouble finding your black socks. Yellow is also mixed with blue to create green and green is the colour of many toothpastes, so it seems very safe. So Yamaha did a clever thing when they disguised the Trike of Death as a duckling with three black feet. Everyone wanted one.

Some of the good things that I should point out about the Trike of Death are:

It takes up as much room as three normal bikes.
It has the ability to tow a boat, but it is so fast that if you try you will tow the trailer from under the boat and leave the boat sitting in thin air for an hour.
The trike could also be used at kids parties, where with a little bit of a tweak here and there it could be ridden in under wheelstand mode as Big Bird from Sesame Street; and the naughty kids could have a ride on him!
There is no horn, so friends have to constantly watch you ride it or they will be run over.
It has a pull start, which keeps you fit simply by flooding it when you use too much choke.
It has an anti theft device, which is the pull start.
It can survive under water for six days.
It has only had two owners, and I'm still alive.

If I had two triangular sheds I would keep both my trikes. But because I'm so scared of damaging the trike as I cartwheel down a hill with the rear tyres examining my femur for defects while my broken thumb jams the throttle full on and my jaw gets turned into kidney stones, I hardly ride it. I'm not scared of hurting myself, it's just the trike. How many people want to buy crashed fighter planes? Not many. So that's why I'm looking after the trike so well. One day this thing will feature at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.

Christmas is just around the corner, so think of the cheer you could bring to someone's face by presenting them with this thing under the Christmas tree. Just don't tell them what it is.

harry 07-01-2010 05:24 PM

Stop it my ribs hurt.

The Beer Monsters 07-01-2010 08:58 PM


Originally Posted by harry (Post 579461)
Stop it my ribs hurt.

Brace your ribs. It got re-listed.


Well it's back and my patience with this Trike of Death thing is wearing thinner than the antarctic ice field. In fact while I'm on the subject I should point out that rising sea levels are not caused by global warming but by the increasing number of boats being put in the water. It's true. In 1806 there were 1,305 boats in the ocean whereas nowadays, the local marina has more than that many. So it makes sense that the extra displacement of all those boats is responsible for the rising sea levels. Greg Norman's boat caused a king tide when it was launched. That is why I'm selling my boat at the moment in my other auction. I was going to join Greenpeace, but selling my boat required less paperwork.
How dare I re-list something without writing a new ad. What was I thinking?

Firstly I'd like to thank everyone who joined in on the last three postings because you have helped make the Trike of Death a household name. Without your combined senses of humour, the earth would have stood still while the internet rotated around it. Well done everybody.

Just a short update on why the Yamaha Trike of Death has been out of cyberspace for the last few weeks:

When I transported the trike to my testing area two weeks ago, it created a procession on the freeway that stretched as far as the rear vision mirror would reveal. Everyone who passed me as my diesel ute struggled to maintain forward motion even going down hills waved and cheered, blowing their horns and showering me with confetti (and some half eaten big macs). Some reached out to touch the Trike of Death which sat awkwardly in the back of a ute that wasn't quite big enough to fit it in. The bulbous front wheel was perched like an eagle waiting to swoop on a mouse, or a mouse waiting to swoop on some cheese, or the power cord of the vacuum cleaner about to fall from the socket just as you start work on the farthest corner of the house – I can't decide what it looked more like.

The passengers in some cars managed to reach out from their vehicles to touch the Trike of Death. One lady was so excited that in the attempt to touch the shiny yellow plastic of the trike's front mudguard she threw herself from the car she was in and rolled down the freeway for an hour. Even she overtook my steady as she goes ute.

I managed to out manoeuvre the entourage by burying the accelerator pedal to the floor and when after a long, dramatic, pause, nothing much happened. The procession peeled off to follow the road while the ute, trike and I went crashing through a fence and down an embankment.

We arrived at the testing area in five pieces. The trike was like an excited puppy and jumped eagerly from the ute and held its pull start out, luring me to tempt fate yet again. With the Trike of Mediocrity sitting in the shed and peering out with jealousy through its rectangular headlight, I thought to myself that I should take the Trike of Death for one last ride. I was convinced that the guy who so desperately wanted me to transport it closer to his home so that he could test ride it then buy it was genuine, but alas, he was most probably just one of the Thunderbirds, possibly miss Penelope (she liked strange vehicles).

I did ride the trike and was stunned by the difference between it and the Trike of Mediocrity. Both are yellow, both have three wheels and both have no suspension on the rear. However, comparing the Trike of Death to the Trike of Mediocrity is like comparing a cup of coffee to a calculator: Both will help you work, but you don't enjoy a calculator with friends.

I only rode the Trike of Death for one minute, but in that minute I managed to see so many things; including my future which was filled with images of bed pans and drinking soup through a straw while lying beside machines that go beep, beep, beeeeeep. I got off the Trike of Death and placed it beside the Trike of Mediocrity. Admittedly, the TOM has reverse and an electric start, but the TOD doesn't need reverse because it ends up spinning around even while trying to go forwards slowly. The only real difference I could see was the tyres. The TOD has tyres which are like black donuts sprinkled with small square chunks of black chocolate. The TOM has tyres which resemble those found on modern day ATVs.

I could form only one conclusion from the comparison I had made: The TOD was possessed, perhaps by a spirit which the earth has not seen before, like gin. No; gin has been around for a long time. It must be a different spirit, an angry spirit. Australia's largest airline claims to be possessed by a flying kangaroo, so it is possible that machines can be possessed by animals. I wondered for a while if the TOD may be possessed by a platypus because nothing on a platypus makes much sense either. Then it dawned on me like remembering that my lost keys were where I last put them. The TOD was possessed by a pool pony. I know this because I spent nearly a summer trying to master the art of staying on the saddle of a pool pony, with most of that time spent under water. A pool pony is one of the most tricky things I've ever ridden. I don't claim to be an expert now, but at least I can float from one end of the pool to the other without capsizing. There are so many similarities between pool ponies and the TOD that the link is so clear to me now. Pool ponies are unpredictable; if you don't ride them properly they can take off from between your legs, fly from the pool, bounce off the BBQ and knock over three plastic wine glasses before sliding across the tray of cabanossi and landing on aunty Bev's lap. Pool ponies are inflated to the same pressure as the TOD tyres – another strong link. Pool ponies are only raced when the riders are drunk, just like trikes. Pool ponies look harmless and fun until you get on them, just like the TOD. If you try to steer a pool pony, it goes the other way, just like the TOD. I now had all the proof I needed to contact John Edwards and find out why the spirit of a yellow pool pony would choose the TOD. Despite half an email, he didn't get back to me.

My trike would suit a family with children. It would give them a great story to tell their children and it would go something like, “My dad had this yellow thing in the shed, and we weren't allowed to touch it, then one day dad took it for a ride and never came home.” By the time the kids have kids, there will be nothing on the earth with only three wheels (apart from a broken office chair).

Trikes have played a very important role in transportation history. The first trike was invented by the Write brothers and when they realised how dangerous a trike was on the ground, they tied some wings to it and invented the first aeroplane. To this day - aside from crashing - take off and landing is the most dangerous part of flight because small planes only have a trike attached to their belly. Thankfully Yamaha left the propeller off the TOD.

To a bloke, the TOD is like a bikini: Good to look at with the right person behind the controls, but get caught in one and you have to know exactly what you're doing or you have a lot of explaining to do. I've been known to do some dangerous and scary things, including one time when I swallowed before chewing my food fifty times. So I'm not getting rid of this thing because I'm frightened of it. Yes I am. I'm the kind of guy who will do anything for a laugh, so fuelled with enough beer and encouragement I can see that I'll end up riding this trike into the next life. So buy this thing and save me.

Be warned: This is not a toy. If the old ads below don't warn you off buying this thing and you have a valid clearance from a doctor, feel free to bid.

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