Brats on scramblers on the M50

 

🏍️ TWO ABSOLUTE BRATS ON SCRAMBLERS TURN THE M50 INTO THEIR OWN STUNT SHOW

BigSaltyDog Exclusive. The M50 Had Seen Some Things. But Yesterday Was Something Else.

There are certain things you expect to see when driving around Dublin.

Traffic.

Traffic jams.

Someone indicating approximately three business days after changing lanes.

A taxi driver who appears to have developed a personal hatred of lane discipline.

A van parked somewhere it absolutely should not be parked.

And, if you are particularly unlucky, someone doing 47 km/h in the outside lane while apparently contemplating the meaning of life.

What you do not necessarily expect to see is two absolute brats on scrambler bikes treating the M50 like their own personal stunt arena.

But that is precisely what happened yesterday.

And Stg. Salty happened to be there to witness the madness.

The two lads appeared on scramblers and immediately looked like they had decided that the normal rules of motorway motoring were simply suggestions.

These were not two gentlemen leisurely enjoying a Sunday spin.

No.

These two had apparently woken up that morning and asked themselves a very simple question.

"How much trouble can we cause before somebody tells us to stop?"

The answer, judging by what happened on the M50, was quite a lot.

THE SCRAMBLERS ARRIVE.

The first thing that caught the attention was the bikes.

Small scrambler-style machines.

Light.

Nippy.

And clearly capable of getting themselves into considerably more trouble than a sensible person would normally want.

The maximum speed of the bikes was probably somewhere around 90 to 100 km/h.

Which might not sound particularly impressive when compared with a modern sports bike.

But that was not really the point.

These two did not need 200 km/h.

They had something much more dangerous.

Enthusiasm.

And apparently absolutely no interest in behaving themselves.

They were darting around, pulling wheelies and generally behaving as though the M50 had been constructed specifically for their entertainment.

One minute they were there.

The next minute they were somewhere else.

Then came another wheelie.

At this point Stg. Salty presumably had the same thought as everyone else watching.

"What in the name of all things sensible are these two doing?"

The answer was apparently.

Having fun.

Unfortunately, it was the sort of fun that can become extremely serious extremely quickly.

STG. SALTY ENTERS THE STORY.

Now, this is where the situation gets interesting.

Because according to the Salty analysis, these lads were not exactly riding machines capable of disappearing into the distance at ridiculous speeds.

Their scramblers were probably capable of somewhere around 90 to 100 km/h.

Which meant that Stg. Salty could actually keep up.

Not because Stg. Salty had suddenly transformed into some sort of motorcycle-racing legend.

Not because he had secretly installed a rocket engine.

And certainly not because he had joined the Garda Roads Policing Unit overnight.

It was simply because the bikes weren't particularly fast.

The riders, however, appeared to be determined to make up for that lack of outright speed by using every available ounce of stupidity.

It was like watching two men driving shopping trolleys while desperately trying to convince everybody they were in Formula One.

The bikes might have been limited.

The imagination certainly wasn't.

THE GREAT M50 WHEELIE SHOW.

The wheelies were probably the most spectacular part of the whole performance.

For those unfamiliar with the concept, a wheelie involves lifting the front wheel of a motorcycle off the ground.

For professional riders in controlled environments, it can be an impressive display of skill.

On a motorway surrounded by other traffic.

Not so much.

There is a very big difference between performing a stunt on a closed circuit and doing it beside ordinary motorists who are simply trying to get home.

The M50 is already unpredictable enough.

Traffic suddenly slows.

Someone changes lane.

Someone brakes.

Someone misses an exit.

Someone realises they should have been in the other lane approximately four kilometres ago.

And then you have two lads on scramblers doing wheelies.

It is not exactly the recipe for a relaxing afternoon.

Stg. Salty watched the unfolding spectacle and presumably wondered whether somebody had accidentally opened the wrong computer game.

Perhaps Grand Theft Auto Dublin had finally been released.

"KEEP UP, SALTY."

There was also something almost comical about the speed.

The two lads looked like they were absolutely flying.

But because the bikes were relatively small, Stg. Salty could keep up with them.

This created a bizarre situation.

The two lads were behaving like they were escaping from an international manhunt.

Meanwhile, Stg. Salty was probably thinking.

"Yes lads. I can still see you."

They might have imagined themselves disappearing into the Dublin sunset.

Instead, they were travelling at speeds that meant a reasonably ordinary car could remain with them.

It was rather like watching someone sprint away from you while wearing a pair of slippers.

They were making a tremendous effort.

But the results were not quite matching the enthusiasm.

THE M50 IS NOT A PLAYGROUND.

There is a serious point underneath all the humour.

The M50 is one of the busiest roads in Ireland.

Thousands of people use it every day.

Cars.

Vans.

Lorries.

Buses.

Motorcycles.

People going to work.

People coming home.

People bringing children somewhere.

People who have spent eight hours at work and simply want to get home without becoming an unwilling participant in somebody else's stunt show.

That is why behaviour like this is so dangerous.

A rider may believe they are completely in control.

But the other road users are not part of the stunt.

They don't know what the rider is going to do next.

A wheelie can attract attention.

Sudden movements can surprise drivers.

And a motorcycle has considerably less protection than a car.

One mistake can have consequences far beyond a bruised ego.

THEN CAME THE FINGLAS EXIT.

Eventually, the two scrambler riders reached the Finglas exit.

And that was where the great M50 performance came to an end.

They exited.

Gone.

Just like that.

The motorway returned to its normal routine.

Cars continued on their way.

Lorries continued rumbling along.

Somebody probably moved into the wrong lane.

Somebody else probably refused to let them in.

And somewhere in the distance, two scrambler riders were presumably congratulating themselves on another successful episode of "How Not To Behave On A Motorway".

Stg. Salty, meanwhile, could presumably continue on his way.

Perhaps wondering what exactly he had just witnessed.

THE SALTY MOTORWAY CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM.

The BigSaltyDog editorial department has since developed a highly scientific classification system for unusual M50 behaviour.

Level One.

The Indicator Forgetter.

This is the person who changes lanes without indicating.

Level Two.

The Lane Hogger.

Usually travelling at a speed that suggests they believe the outside lane is named after them personally.

Level Three.

The Last-Minute Exit Specialist.

This individual suddenly realises that their exit is approaching and attempts to cross approximately four lanes of traffic in twelve seconds.

Level Four.

The M50 Acrobat.

This is where yesterday's two lads belong.

Wheelies.

Scramblers.

Random manoeuvres.

And an apparent belief that traffic laws are merely optional reading.

Level Five.

The BigSaltyDog Special.

We have not yet encountered one.

And frankly, we would prefer to keep it that way.

WERE THEY HAVING FUN?

Almost certainly.

And that is probably the frustrating part.

From their perspective, they were probably having an absolutely brilliant time.

The bikes were buzzing.

The adrenaline was flowing.

The wheelies were happening.

And Stg. Salty was somewhere behind them thinking that he could actually keep up.

But there is a difference between having fun and creating unnecessary danger for everyone around you.

There are plenty of places where people can enjoy motorcycles.

There are tracks.

There are off-road areas.

There are controlled environments where riders can practise skills without having hundreds of other road users around them.

The M50 is not one of them.

The M50 has enough problems without adding a travelling circus.

STG. SALTY'S OFFICIAL REPORT.

The official Stg. Salty report therefore reads as follows.

Two lads.

Two scramblers.

One M50.

Several wheelies.

A considerable amount of madness.

Estimated maximum bike speed.

Approximately 90 to 100 km/h.

Stg. Salty.

Able to keep up.

Final destination.

Finglas exit.

Final score.

Common sense.

Missing in action.

The riders may have thought they were starring in an action film.

Unfortunately, there was no stunt coordinator.

No closed road.

No crash barriers placed specifically for them.

And no director standing nearby shouting "Cut".

There were just ordinary people using the motorway.

THE BIGSALTYDOG VERDICT.

Yesterday's M50 incident was one of those moments where you look at something happening in front of you and think.

"Am I actually seeing this?"

Two young lads on scramblers were treating one of Dublin's busiest motorways like their own personal playground.

The wheelies certainly made an impression.

Their bikes may not have been capable of enormous speeds, but they certainly managed to create an enormous amount of drama.

And that is probably the best way to describe the whole episode.

Enormous drama.

The funniest part, at least from Stg. Salty's perspective, was probably that despite all the frantic riding and apparent attempts to disappear into the distance, they weren't actually travelling fast enough to lose him.

Stg. Salty could keep up.

Which raises an important question.

If your big escape involves someone in an ordinary car casually following along behind you, perhaps the escape wasn't quite as impressive as you thought.

Still, they eventually took the Finglas exit and disappeared.

The M50 survived.

Stg. Salty survived.

The traffic survived.

And somewhere in Dublin, two scrambler riders presumably woke up this morning believing they had just completed the greatest motorcycle stunt sequence since the invention of the wheel.

BigSaltyDog would like to remind them of one small detail.

The M50 isn't a stunt track.

Enjoy the bikes.

Enjoy the riding.

Enjoy the freedom.

But save the wheelies for somewhere designed for them.

Because the next time someone pulls a stunt like that, the consequences might not be quite as funny.

And that would be one BigSaltyDog story nobody would want to write.

Until then, Stg. Salty remains on patrol.

Watching the roads.

Watching the madness.

And wondering what on earth Dublin is going to throw at him next.

Because if yesterday's M50 episode is anything to go by.

It could be absolutely anything.

BigSaltyDog News.

Where the traffic is heavy, the stories are heavier, and common sense occasionally takes the Finglas exit.