after reading some of these horror stories i don't feel like mine qualifies for being on here.
Not long after I got my new (to me) bike, my husband and I were working on something in the garage and he needed to move the ladder. So when you pick the big, heavy son of a gun up you have to pick it up in the middle to balance the weight. When he slightly turned with it the bottom part of the ladder (that tiny area that doesn't have the soft rubber grip on the bottom legs) put a scratch in the back of my saddle bag. You know the part towards the top that is painted that "special" orange color. Not the black part that we have laying around in cans. I heard that scraping sound that metal on $??,000.00 makes and could feel the presence of the good Lords angles coming to get me (don't judge me) as i saw the slow motion of the ladder come in contact with all those sparkles. I don't remember much more (I must have completely blacked out) I am sure certain words might have been mentioned that made the Lord decide I shouldn't have the privilege to be graced by his presence. In the end my husband was very sorry and since I was smart enough to marry an amazing guy with awesome auto body knowledge and skills he buffed it right out. I still try not to think about that sad day.
Last edited by Mrs. Chainsaw; 11-21-2012 at 03:41 PM.