yeah I do......fork broke, handlebars knocked out a toof and me and had road rash on face back of hands and legs. woke up at hospital, apparently didn't have a concussion or broken bones. Found my tooth the next day and dentist shoved it back in and had braces on top teeth for awhile to keep it in place. A girl I liked in school was a nurses aid at hospital. One of my last cycling esapades before skateboarding and surfing took over until early 90s and mtbs made the scene......
Sometimes I don't know how some of us survived childhood.
I used to practice jumps and other tricks in-between farm work, nothing like jumping on a bike all sweaty, covered in grime and hayseeds, and feeling that quick burst of cool air while in that quick bit of freefall.
I also had this one trick where I had two pails and a super heavy plank across them and I'd come down the road on the hill by our place full speed, go across a bit of grass and lock the rear brake, fall on my side and I and the bike would slide under the plank with inches to spare. Eventually, I discovered that I could pound some pieces of two by four into the ground just so, past the end of the plank so that my back wheel would catch on it after I had slid under the plank and propel the bike back up (lots of trial and error and core strength on my part to help it happen) and I could ride away and do it again.
How the hell did I not hurt myself? And I remember doing that over and over again.
One time one of my friends, a great guy and a dude smart as a whip; but from a broken home and a very, very poor family - got in a bad road rash accident. I felt so sorry for him and to this day I feel somewhat guilty that I didn't help him beforehand, and possibly avoided the accident.
His mom couldn't afford a bike for him but he found an old 10 speed at a dump nearby. The brakes barely worked with the cables being so jammed and sticky and the pads hard as stone, the gears were slightly usable in the middle range, the seat was ripped and worn, the handlebars lacked tape, and he had used some old spray paint to paint the entire bike as it had looked so bad. When I say the "entire" bike I mean the entire bike - including tires and across the cable entry and exit points which probably made braking and shifting even harder.
I had lubed his chain for him at my insistence as I could not stand the squeak. But I should have checked the bike over, even as a kid I would have been able to fix a few of the problems with the bike. But he was pretty proud of "fixing it up" himself so the chain lube was all he let me do, and I had to insist on that or I wouldn't ride with him as everyone could hear us coming ;(
One time we were about a mile from my house heading out for a ride when he decided to do a wheelie.
At that point the front tire came off and headed off.
I will never forget the look on his face as he held that wheelie for as long as he could as he looked over at me. Time seemed to stand still for me, perhaps for him too.
A range of emotions crossed his face in quick succession. Starting with and ending with a look of pleading - as if I could do something to help him. Then sadness and despair, fear and back again. All in a few seconds.
Then he couldn't hold it any longer and he came down, hard; he and the crappy bike rolling over each other and making a crashing sound that seemed louder than should have been possible.
Afterward, he lay there and I helped extricate him from the bike, and my neighbor came out of her house, she was a kindly middle-aged lady who my parents knew well and she brought us into her house and cleaned up his wound as much as possible.
He had road rash all over his arms, hands, legs, and sides. He did his best but the pain must have been pretty intense as he had a few tears in his eyes, something we boys would never normally let a friend or stranger see. Though at one point he let out a sob and quickly stifled it with a look in my direction.
I think she offered to take him home but he refused over and over, being a proud independent kid. I think he just wanted to get away, perhaps get home and curl up in a ball in his room and cry perhaps.
We thanked her and I carried his bike while he carried the errant front wheel back past my house and the mile past that to his house, or possibly he left the bike at my house come to think of it, I can't remember for sure.
Over the years thinking back I have since felt a bit guilty as a quick check would have shown the loose front wheel problem.
Unfortunately the crappy bike and accident became a bit of a metaphor for his unfortunate life, at least as of the last time I saw him many years ago.
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