Oh shit! I'm gonna get rolled.
When I worked in India I was usually chauffered about by local agents or sometimes took the public bus for security. But when I disembarked at the airport late one night after an internal flight the only available transport was a single autorickshaw driven by a very tall Sikh.
I leapt at the chance to ride in one of these three wheel scooters and gave the driver the address of my hotel. He set off but instead of driving out of the airport onto the main road he turned towards a dark area of hangers and warehouses. No sooner had I lost my bearings than the rickshaw pulled up, the driver reached down for a large iron spanner and he said to me "Would you please be getting out of the vehicle."
"Oh shit!" I thought, "I'm gonna get rolled." I scanned quickly about for his accomplices and wondered which direction I should be running.
As soon as I was off the rickshaw seat the driver lifted it and gave the two stroke cylinder head underneath an almighty blow with the spanner.
In the sixties when I did motorcycle maintenance night classes at Mantle Road School with Brian Porter, Bruce Gibson and Lawrence Mounteney we were told about the dirt track rider whose two stroke motorcycle had no cooling fins on one side because he kicked it with his steel shod boot when it misfired - to shake off the carbon whisker that was shorting out the spark plug.
There followed a very interesting chat about the shortcomings of Indian two stroke oils and a pleasant evening ride down backstreet shortcuts to my hotel.
When I returned to Blighty I went to night classes again, this time for self defense lessons!