MOTORCYCLE JOKES

A successful gynecologist decides to fulfill his life's dream: give up medical practice and become a motorcycle mechanic.
So he gets out of the medical business and enrolls at a mechanic's seminar with Harley Davidson.
After many weeks of training comes the final examination, taking apart and then re-assembling a randomly chosen Harley engine.
He grabs his tools and sets to work, but soon he gets worried: while he is still working on the valve-covers, everybody else is already busy with removing the cylinder heads.
He falls more and more behind, and as he is just starting to put it all back together, everybody else is already finished.
He manages to put the engine back together, barely in time before the exam ends.
Because it took him so much longer than everybody else, he goes straight to the teacher to ask how he performed.
"Well," the teacher says, "out of one hundred possible points you scored 150." "But how is that possible?" the ex-gynecologist asks.
"Well, it breaks down to this: You get fifty points for correctly taking the engine apart. And you get another fifty points for putting it back together perfectly." "And what did I get those additional fifty points for?"
"For doing it all through the exhaust."

There's the sad story of the poor guy who was in a terrible motorcycle accident. When he came out from under the anaesthetic, the doctor was leaning over him anxiously.
"Son," he said, "I've got some good news and some bad news.
"The bad news is that your were in a very serious accident, and I'm afraid we had to amputate both your feet just above the ankle."
"Jesus," gasped the patient.
"What's the good news?"
"The fellow in the next bed over will give you a good price for your boots."

A motorcycle cop on patrol watched as a man in a red Porsche slowed down at a stop sign, without coming to a complete stop, then sped off.
The motorcycle cop pulled the vehicle over and approached the man. "Sir, can I please see your license and registration."
The man replies, "Not until you tell me what the heck I did wrong, Officer."
The officer explain, "You didn't come to a complete stop at the stop sign a few blocks back."
"Let me guess," said the man, "all the donut shops are closed today!"
"Sir, I'm going to overlook that last comment. Now, if you would please show me your license and registration."
The man counters, "Not until you tell me the difference between slowing down and coming to a complete stop."
"Sir, step out of the car."
As the man reluctantly gets out of his car, the officer begins beating him over the head with his nightstick and exclaims, "Now, sir, would you like me to slow down or come to a complete stop!"

A highly timid little man, ventured into a biker bar in the Bronx and clearing his throat asked, "Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?"
A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and said, "It's my dog. Why?"
"Well," squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous, "I believe my dog just killed it, sir."
"What?" roared the big man in disbelief. "What in the hell kind of dog do you have?"
"Sir," answered the little man, "It's a four week old puppy."
"Bull!" roared the biker, "How could your puppy kill my Doberman?"
"It appears that he choked on it, sir."

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