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The Australian and New-Zealand colloquial phrase to get off one’s bike means (usually in negative contexts): to get excited, annoyed, angry.

This phrase frequently occurs in the imperative, as don’t get off your bike.

Sidney John Baker (1912-1976) mentioned this phrase in the following from The Australian Language (Sydney and London: Angus and Robertson Ltd., 1945) [chapter 6: The City, 2—Fighting Talk, page 121]:

Anger and dislike are described in a variety of ways. A man in a temper is said to be brushing; to have the dingbats, the pricker or the stirks; he is said to be ropeable, snaky, maggoty or pippy; to go crook, to do his block, pegs or nut; to get off his bike; to get wet; to go hostile; to go to market; to go lemony or woolly-headed at a person; and to rouse on someone.

In my opinion, the phrase to get off one’s bike may be based on the image of a person who, while riding a bicycle, gets provoked by another person: the cyclist would then dismount and respond to the provocator.

This is illustrated, for example, by the following from The Border Watch (Mount Gambier, South Australia, Australia) of Saturday 13^th September 1913 [page 4, column 3]:

An Assault Case.

Robert Little was charged, on the information of William Bartlett, with having assaulted him on Tuesday, September 2. The defendant pleaded not guilty.
[…]
James Henry Frederick William Ball, assistant to the informant, said he was at the end of the lane mentioned, when Little got off his bicycle. Defendant used some bad language, and then picked up a stone, and with it hit the informant in the back. He then picked up another stone, but witness held him against the fence until Bartlett got away. To Mr. Little—The informant did not give defendant any provocation. Bartlett did not get off his horse.
The defendant, a laborer, of Mount Gambier, said that on September 2, when he was near the Baptist Church, the informant came along the right of way, and poked his tongue at him, and put his fingers up to his nose. Witness got off his bike, and told him if he was looking for trouble he could get it. Witness then went to the post-office, and when coming back he saw Bartlett, who had a man with him. Bartlett behaved in the same way again, and witness said he would have a go at him. Bartlett rode away, and he picked up a stone about as big as the bowl of a pipe. He threw the stone because of Bartlett’s behaviour. The informant would not get off his horse like a man.

—Note: Interestingly, the above-quoted text from The Border Watch of 13^th September 1913 contains the phrase to get off one’s horse, which, too, means: to get excited, annoyed, angry.

These are, in chronological order, the earliest occurrences of the phrase to get off one’s bike that I have found:

1-: From one of the unconnected paragraphs making up the column Mayland Moans, by ‘Wattle’, published in The Mirror (Perth, Western Australia, Australia) of Saturday 12^th May 1923 [page 7, column 5]—however, here, there is no sufficient context to determine the precise meaning of the phrase to get off one’s bike; ‘Wattle’ was apparently replying to one ‘Vi B.’:

Vi B.: Don’t get off your bike!

2-: From the column Chestnuts, consisting of jokes sent by young readers, published in The Sun News-Pictorial (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) of Thursday 10^th July 1924 [Supplement: page 2, column 3]:

Jones has bought a piano, when Joe his neighbor calls out: “Betcha won’t keep that long” Next day a van was at Jones’s house carrying out the piano, when Joe called out. “What did I tell you?” James [sic]: “Oh, don’t get off your bike, I’m just going to me music lesson.”
(Ina Burrows, 212 Station-street, Fairfield).

3-: From The News (Adelaide, South Australia, Australia) of Wednesday 17^th September 1924 [page 7, column 4]:

Stylishly dressed, wearing a purple hat, a fur, five rings on her fingers, and a gold bangle on her wrist, Florence Sims, a young woman of small stature, appeared before Mr. E. M. Sabine, P.M., in the Adelaide Police Court today on a charge of having insufficient lawful means of support. […]
[…]
Plainclothes Constable Stephens said he knew Sims.
Sims.—Certainly you do!
During the past month, witness continued, he had seen her on the west side of the city, drinking in hotels and wine bars.
[…]
Constable Stephens.—During that time she has followed no lawful occupation.
Sims.—Have I not?
Constable Stephens.—At 4 p.m. on August 12 I saw her playing the pianola in the Hotel George.
Sims.—That’s right.
Constable Stephens.—I called her outside and asked her where she was working. She said she had not had time to get work since she came out of gaol.
Sims.—That’s right. I did a month.
Constable Stephens.—I told her I was satisfied she had not made any endeavor to obtain work.
Sims.—Excuse yourself! I have been working for a fortnight. Don’t get off your bike.

4-: From Brighton Municipal Band. The Trip to Clare, by ‘Penwortham’, published in The Glenelg Guardian (Glenelg, South Australia, Australia) of Thursday 23^rd April 1925 [page 4, column 3]—however, here, the meaning of to get off one’s bike is unclear:

Monday broke fine and warm. Many of the boys were having a popping time in the parlor, and around dinner time the trips manager appeared on the scene just as Jack was beginning to “drum” into the party the advantages of water and its benefits for washing, etc. He got off his bike a little and made himself as welcome as a bag of snakes, but he was soon kindly but forcibly elevated to the top storey accompanied by the strains of “Let’s Have Another One Together.”

5-: From Caught Again, by ‘Norma’, published in the Sunday Times (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Sunday 26^th June 1927 [Pranks: The Children’s Newspaper: page 3, column 6]:

“Going to tennis this afternoon?” inquired Jack.
“Of course I am; don’t I always go on Saturday?” I replied, rather more sharply than the occasion demanded.
“All right, don’t get off your bike,” he rejoined slangily.
“I’m not, but I do wish you’d hurry and finish your dinner, we want to get the washing-up done.”

6-: From the football column Notes by “Ruck”, published in The Woodend Star (Woodend, Victoria, Australia) of Saturday 12^th May 1928 [page 3, column 1]:

There are rumors of some clearances being applied for.
It is also said that the secretary “got off his bike” to some order.

7-: From the column They Say, published in The Irwin Index (Mingenew, Western Australia, Australia) of Saturday 23^rd June 1928 [page 7, column 4]—however, here, there is no sufficient context to determine the precise meaning of the phrase to get off one’s bike:

THEY SAY
[…]
That Leo got off his bike last week.

8-: From Between you and me and the Microphone, published in Wireless Weekly (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Friday 26^th October 1928 [page 8, column 2]:

WHISPERING TO MIKE.
(Anna Lee).

Do you know Mike, of 3LO?
He’s just the cutest thing,
He makes you laugh, he makes you cry,
He gets you on a string.
He makes you naughty, makes you wise,
Makes you “get off your bike”—
But everything depends on who
Is whispering to Mike.

9-: From an account of a trial held at the Collie Local Court on Tuesday 12^th February 1929, published in The Collie Mail and W.A. Coalfields Miner (Collie, Western Australia, Australia) of Friday 22^nd February 1929 [page 5, column 1]:

The plaintiff (Glancy) was talking to some “blacks” near the motor window of Iddon’s store, and he stepped into a recess beside the natives. His reason for doing this was because his mates were calling him to go up town, whereas he wanted to go home, and if they were unable to see him would think he had gone. The following conversation ensued:
Plaintiff: Hey, nick off, your cobbers are calling you.
Defendant: I wont [sic]; and I’ll go when I please.
Plaintiff: Alright, but don’t get ‘off your bike’ about it.
Defendant: Shut up. You are always putting your nose where it’s not wanted.
Plaintiff: If I put it in you could not put it out.
Defendant: Couldn’t I.
In answer to the magistrate the witness said the expression “don’t get off your bike” meant not “to get your hair off” or to be “put out” about it.