One morning in 1968 at about 05:30 or perhaps 06:00 (it was just getting daylight), I was riding through the very flat Western suburbs of Ballarat. Overnight a water main had burst flooding a crossroads type intersection and its four approach roads to a depth of maybe 1 or 2 cm in the centre of the road and deeper at the edges. The temperature had fallen to about -2 or -3ºC (US = 26.6 to 28.4ºF) and the water on the road had frozen solid to form invisible black ice.
I came along riding at about 50 or 60 km/h (US = 31 or 37 mph) when I noticed a policeman at the next intersection frantically waving his arms and obviously wanting me to stop as quickly as I could. By the time I noticed him, I was almost on the ice. I pulled both brakes and locked the front and rear wheels just a split second before I was on the ice. My bike and sidecar instantly went into a very rapid spin and seemed to be going along the road faster than ever. It just spun round and round and round.
At one point I noticed during one of my spins that the policeman was lying on his back on the road. "My goodness!" I thought, "I'm in trouble now; I've knocked over a policeman!"
But there was no way I could stop. The bike just kept right on spinning round and round and round. Eventually, I reached the end of the ice and three tyres all gripped the road. I
n a split second the sidecar was high in the air and the handlebar was almost touching the road: I was rolling over! Somehow, I pulled the outfit out of its rollover before it had gone too far and came to a total stop, parked neatly beside a police car, and facing back the way I had come. I was so dizzy I could not get off the bike, and just sort of slumped there over the handlebars.
A policeman asked me, "Are you okay mate?"
I responded that I was extremely dizzy but otherwise I thought I was okay.
The policeman then said, "Do you reckon you could go back and do that again? We didn't have our cameras ready!"