My brother inlaw who lived next door, was rebuilding the engine of his BSA A7 in his parents attic. One Saturday afternoon he appeared at our front door in pure panic, " come quick I've had an accident"
Up the stairs into the attic and 'cor blimey' he was cleaning parts of the engine in a plastic basin which had been half full of black oily petrol, had been because he had knocked it off the small bench/table emptying the contents onto the floor where it had quickly drained away.
While he was trying to wipe the floor I went back down the stairs and into the bedroom below, a glance at the ceiling and the every increasing black brown stain told me that I didn't want to be around when his parents returned. "Er Bob I'll nip back home and see if there are any rags to help mop it up.
Just as I got to the my front door who comes walking up the road! Bob's parents.
He never told me what they said but he eventually rebuild the bike, but nowhere near his parents house..