I've never truly mastered the Mike "The Bike" Hailwood run n' bump.
Clearly never owned worn out English bikes or other questionable stuff. I was a master of bump starting the accursed Velocette I was once afflicted with - bumping it was a lot safer than kicking the thing when it was in "one of its moods", mind you I was more than 40 years younger than I am now then and a lot fitter.
There was only one time I was ever proud of the horrid Velo (which was a Venom made as near a Thruxton as my wallet, my skill and my imagination would allow at the time) was when I participated in some sort of "lifestyle" display at the local showgrounds.
A ghastly long streak of misery with attitude came along and loudly announced that all British Bike owners were full of the proverbial and that he owned a Yamaha XT500 and HE could boot that thing into life anytime with none of the namby-pamby nonsense of finding compression, setting throttle or similar nonsense.
I invited him to give the evil Velo a prod in the guts.
Being half-smart he enquired as to technique, I told him to jiggle the little brass thingy on the side of the carb until fuel flowed over his fingers, then move that lever on the left all the way forward, give it about 75% throttle and go your hardest.
I was an evil sadistic bastard when I was young, I'd just set him up with a flooded Amal, full ignition advance and lots of throttle.
Well he leapt on that kick start lever from a great height with a stiffened leg, the evil Velo did about 3/4 of a rotation and backfired, just as I knew it would. Flame belched from the carb mouth and from the exhaust in equal measure and the young lad sailed through the air with the greatest of ease landing in a heap about 4' in front of the bike.
He limped quietly away, attended by his friends, with what I hoped was a new found respect for old British bikes.......
I gave the evil Velo a pat on the tank and said a silent "thanks old girl".
I have only been badly "bitten" once and that was by an innocuous, harmless Honda XL185 trail bike. I was only wearing sandals so the imprint of my own big toe-nail in my shin was silent evidence of how over-extended my ankle had been.
I limped for 6 months.