broke a 2 ribs racing a bike across ice...
I've had so many stupid bike accidents, I'm honestly surprised none of them ended up with a tale worthy of this thread.
If you want to how stupid exactly, well...I'll tell you! This happened back when I lived out in the boonies, so I was probably 7 or 8. Where I was at, we didn't have luxuries such as "cable TV" or "video rental stores", or anything like that, so all the kids in my neighborhood (and I mean neighborhood in the loosest sense, all the houses were at least half a mile apart) were left to our own devices to entertain ourselves.
Needless to say, there were a number of kids who ended up being hurt terribly. Somehow, I wasn't one of them.
This one older kid had taken the time to build a surprisingly nice bike track out in the woods behind his house. Well, maybe "bike track" isn't the right word for it. It was more a "bike obstacle course" now that I think back on it. Either way, it was about the raddest thing ever during a time when raddest was an actual rad word cool kids used.
...and the raddest part of it was this pit he dug, looking more like a shallow grave roughly 4' x 3' in size, with a ramp made of an old metal mesh leaned up against a log. This was the part of the track only the brave kids dared, where life and limb were put in peril for the pursuit of glory and fame (well, it was only 6 kids altogether, but our standards were lower back then).
One day, I decide I'm going to jump that pit. It's my destiny. It must be done. I, of course, decide to do it entirely by myself. I was obviously a smart child, wise beyond my years. So one fine summer day, while no one else was around, I took my little silver BMX bike, and braved that obstacle course. Oh, I excelled, people. I was grace and agility personified. My leaps defied imagination. My turns deft and swift. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
At least until the pit.
I stop my bike. I stared at it. It stared back at me. If I knew my Nietzsche then, I probably would've thought of his most famous quote. And I dared it. Peddled as fast and hard as my short little legs would propel me. The wind? It was my ally.
...A FICKLE ALLY!
Alas, the speed I managed wasn't quite enough. I almost made it, too. I caught air, and it seemed like a sure thing. But not quite. I came down a little too shallow, and my front tire hit the opposite edge of the pit. I'm thrown forward. Tumble maybe a good 10 feet or so. The wind's knocked out of me, and the front wheel of my bike is bent inwards, looking like a lazy C.
Somehow, I managed to get through that relatively unscathed. I had a nice bruise on my left arm, and a few lightly bleeding scrapes, but nothing serious. It was an accident I was able to walk away from.
A hard lesson was learned that day: always bring your friends along so they can carry your busted bike back to your house while you play up their pity.
