An old desert racer that I talked to told me about finishing a race pulling his broken throttle cable with his teeth. The picture it painted in my head was rad. A crazy indian dude with a cool 70's open face helmet gritting his teeth and pulling his throttle cable across the desert.
I had to do that shit a few months ago when mine broke.
Of course, it was rush hour and I was in the middle of the city trying to get back home miles away.
Picture trying to stop and go with a jockey shift, suicide clutch, and a fuckin' shoe string tied to my throttle on the carb.
Whenever I stopped, i'd find a sandy spot in the road, crank the throttle up really high, put my hand back on the handle bars really fast, and dump the clutch before the rpm's came down. It was a bitch. I peeled out alot. Gnarly.