Everybody that rides a bike eventually wrecks. Of course some wrecks are more spectacular than others. But in any case, everyone has at least one wreck that stands out. For me, it was my very first wreck on my mountain bike.
I was 11 years old when I first got a mountain bike. I begged and begged for one, and finally, my dad brought home a Huffy White-Heat from Kmart. I think the thing was made from solid steal, and I still to this day believe you could through the frame off a massive cliff, and nothing would even bend.
It was a Friday night my Dad brought home the bike which was really too late for any 11 year old to do any serious riding. So the next day, I was going to hit it hard. BUT... my dad kept giving me more and more chores to do around the yard. As soon as I would get one done, I would jump on my bike, but before I could get out of the driveway, he had another chore for me. Finally, about 3:00 in the afternoon, I was set free.
Of course, the first thing you do with a mountain bike is take it up a mountain.
My road turned to dirt about a 100 yards from my house, and then hit the base of the hills in a mile. The first incline was pretty good. My thought was if I could make it up that, coming down would be a heck of a lot of fun. About 10 yards up the hill, I was winded and unable to pedal any further. So, I pushed my bike up the hill.
When I got to the top, I looked down the extremely rocky decent with anticipation. I knew this had to be good. So I started down. My spend went up pretty quick, and being new I rode my breaks. This lasted until my hands started cramping, so I said "screw it" and let go.
That's when my troubles began.
Things got rough.
I got airborn...
Without my bike...
Then hit the ground.
I got up and shook the dirt off... I was pretty scraped up, and my head hurt (of course this was back when wearing a helmet was more of an exception to the rule). I walked over to my bike. The wheel was taco'd. 90 degree angle at the axel. The solid steel frame just grinned at the impact, but cheap rim couldn't take it. So I through my bike in the bushes and started to walk home.
At this point I was about 1 mile and a half from home. After about a 1/4 mile, I couldn't see out of one eye because 1.) swelling, and 2.) a good deal of blood running down my face. When I got to the first house on the road, a neighbor I had known for years, I decided to ask them if I could give me a ride home.
When I knocked on the door, I simply asked for a ride home. I didn't realize they didn't know who I was. So when they washed a little blood away, they sent someone to get my folks. My mom arrived and took me to the emergency room. Apparently, besides all the scrapes I was aware of, I had a quarter size whole near my temple that was nearly down to the skull. 20 some odd stitches later, I walked out of the ER.
While I was at the ER, my Dad took the truck to retrieve my bike. It turned into a CSI of sorts for him. He could see where I hit the massive rock about the size of a basketball and crunched my rim. About 20 feet later, he could see where my flight came back to earth. An additional 20 feet after that, he could see where my facial powerslide came to a stop. Finally, he could follow my blood trail from the site of the accident to our neighbors house a mile away.
Needless to say, I received a helmet shortly after.
