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Old 07-01-2010, 08:58 PM
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Originally Posted by harry View Post
Stop it my ribs hurt.
Brace your ribs. It got re-listed.

http://cgi.ebay.com.au/ws/eBayISAPI....m=160380636388

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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