Have you had any cycling accidents if yes what happened?

Drago

Flouncing Nobber
My experience with pain and cycling started off early in my two wheeled career. It was the early seventies when I learned to ride, and if I’m honest there wasn’t much going on. The bright and colourful swinging sixties had passed my remote part of the world completely by. Music was limited to what we might hear on Dad’s car radio. I was puzzled because the Beatles were telling us that there were 8 days a week, but my little backwater still had only 7. TV was black and white and had only 3 channels. There was no internet, mobile phones or video games. Hell, I was lucky because we had central heating – some of my mates didn’t have indoor lavatories. Aside from the flares and wide collars it may as well have been 1930.

Beyond the the obvious scrapes, bangs and tears that a young sprog endures while learning to ride, my experiences with bicycles and pain began early. Because there was nothing to do we inevitably started to arse about with our bicycles. This sometimes involved stunts and tricks, but we soon turned our attention to modifying them.

By the end of one afternoon we all had playing cards held on the seat stays with clothes pegs, which made a nice thrumming motorbike sound. Someone then hit upon the idea of using fence wire to make rakish looking aerials affixed to the back of our bikes. I was riding round looking like a five year old hybrid between Peter Fonda and Evel Knieval, but in my mind way cooler. Sadly, this brief moment of awesome wonder came to an abrupt and screaming halt when I managed to poke myself in the eye with the ragged end of the ‘aerial’. Cue one rather hasty trip to the Daredevils, War Veterans, and Generally Cool Kids Hospital in my Mums Mini to have the damage repaired. Fortunately I suffered no lasting damage, and went on to new heights of cycling coolness, and new depths of embarrassing pain.

Fast forward a few more years and I became a strapping and rather dashing young fellow. Tight Gary Glitter T shirt (yes, I know, I know), flares, platform soles, I was so cool I could stop ice cream from melting in the heat.

And hot it was, seeing as it was the summer of 1976. It was so hot Bryan Adams wrote a song about it, although he couldn’t rhyme “seventy six” with anything and changed the song title accordingly. Lightweight. Anyway, you think the summer of 2018 was long and hot? It was nothing. I laugh at the summer of 2018. I spit upon its lack of heat and turn my back upon its short duration. Ha!
By this time I’d been bought a Raleigh Chopper by my Dad. It was one stylish looking monster and as soon as I saw it I knew I was going to be a hit with the chicks. It as the MkII with the T shaped gear shifter.

But for all its style it was also one unstable sonofabitch. So bad that the police wouldn’t let you use one to do your cycling proficiency test, so I had to use my sister’s pink bike with the flowery decals and basket, an experience that left me deeply traumatised.

I’d also become obsessed with speed. The antics of the likes of Craig Breedlove made my chest swell with a testosterone pumped manly pride, and I was determined to follow in my hero’s footsteps. In order to achieve this I took my Raleigh Chopper out of town to the biggest, baddest hill I could find, and readied to launch myself off the top. I mean, this hill was steep. Word was climbers preparing to tackle K2 practised here, and even the SAS wouldn’t attempt it without a team of sherpas.

Off I went, faster, faster, fassttteeeerrrrr! That is, until the inevitable Raleigh Chopper wobbles set in. Then the wobbles quickly became full on transonic buffeting that would have left Chuck Yaegar’s Y fronts badly soiled.

The bike spat me off at about 680 MPH (the police told my Mum it was about 25 MPH, but what do they know?), and I landed very badly, injuring my leg and hip. Cue another visit to the Vets, Daredevils and Cool Dudes Hospital for treatment. Afterwards I was deeply upset by the damage to my beloved Raleigh Chopper. How would I emulate Jon and Ponch with such a battered machine? I immediately placed my hand upon the bible and vowed never to do anything stupid on a bicycle again.

A few more years passed and I soon forgot my vow. I’d grown into a strapping young man and a paragon of style. Tight jeans, denim shirt slashed open to the waist, medallion, mirrored shades from the market, and so much Brut aftershave people’s eyes watered if they came too close to me.

I needed a bigger bike, but my Mum couldn’t afford one. In the end she got me an old Raleigh 3 speeder that I think may have been pre-war vintage. It even sported rod brakes. Still and all, it was in good nick and if I was to get out there and continue my career desperately trying to attract the chicks then I needed wheels.

I, a beggar, definitely could not be a chooser.

Alas, this situation was disrupted a few days later when I got a visit from the puncture fairy on the rear wheel. I really couldn’t be bothered to repair the tube, so set my fertile mind on working out another solution. While pondering the problem my eyes fell upon my old Chopper gathering dust forlornly at the back of the garage. Then I had a monent of genius – I would take the rear wheel from the Chopper and fit it to the rear of my new bike. It fitted well, and even the 3 speed gears hooked up and worked.

However, there were a few tiny little problems. The rear wheel of the Chopper was much smaller than the one it replaced, meaning the bike leaned back dangerously. I thought it looked cool and racy.

Then there was the reduced ground clearance. Pedalling in a dead straight line was ok, but the slightest turn caused the cranks to smack on the floor.

Oh, and don’t forget the brakes. Or lack of them. The smaller wheel meant the brake didn’t reach the rim and didn’t work.

But I wasn’t the sort of young daredevil about town who was worried about details – I was a big picture man!

For a few days things went well. I rolled around town looking cool, and doubtless impressing loads of girls who would surely want to snog me very soon. This blissful situation soon came to a crashing halt.

Riding along one day I went to pull out to overtake a parked car. Considering the slightly dodgy nature of the bike I was going a bit quick and pulled out too sharply. The right hand crank hit the ground, causing the bike to lurch and wobble. I yanked on the brakes, but with no rear brake the bikes retardation abilities were almost halved. Out of control, unable to brake, going too fast I smashed into the back of the parked Vauxhall Viva (a metallic bronze 4 door HC model, as it happens) and suffered an immediate Class 1 scrotum-handlebar spatial incompatibility incident.
My loves plums seemed to explode, and I lay on the floor clutching at my space hoppers which were bleeding alarmingly though my Erik Estrada tight jeans. A passer by called an ambulance, and the crew – who by now were on first name terms with me – tried not to snigger too much as they scraped me off the floor and took me to the Exploding Scrotum Ward at the Vets, Daredevils, and Stupid Idiots Hopsital. One small saving grace was having a nice young lady nurse tend to my bruised spuds, which was better than I was to manage with a girl until I turned 17.
I vowed to go straight, and properly repaired the Raleigh and fitted the correct wheel. The Viva owner didn’t seem bothered by the testicle shaped dent in his boot lid, so I escaped having to pay for the damage.

And that's it really. Not had a spill since.
 
No. The only misfortune I have ever had while on a bicycle is meeting...CLOUT! *gets back of moon bunny’s hand on side of head*
 

Wookee

Well-Known Member
Location
East Herts
A few years back I fell off several times in one journey - trying to ride through 6-8 inches of fresh snow. No injuries but I was pretty wet!

My first big off involved a downhill speed attempt in my youth while wearing flares with frayed bottoms. Flares flapped into the chain/ring and stopped everything dead when I least expected it. I went over the bars and face first into a garden wall:blush:. One of my front teeth has been capped ever since.
 

ColinJ

Puzzle game developer
I posted this elsewhere on a similar thread years ago...

Accident report by ColinJ said:
My worst crash came during The Duncroft Avenue Sprint Time Trial in 1969. Don't bother trying to look it up though folks - it was only me and a bunch of teenage mates messing about...

We were bored of hanging about the local streets so someone suggested that we have a bike race. The trouble was, we only had one bike between us - my short-ars* mate's 5-speed/1-speed racer. It was 5-speed in the sense that it had 5 sprockets and a derailleur to change between them. 1-speed in the sense that the gear cable had broken and was wrapped round a seat stay and held in place by a clothes peg. Improvised British Engineering at its finest!

Anyway, the race was on but since we only had one bike, it had to be a time trial. Duncroft Avenue is slightly uphill and there is line-of-sight for a couple of hundred yards. The start line was at a lamppost at one end of the road, the finish line in front of a lamppost at the other end where stood both the starter and timekeeper (a single spotty oik with a wristwatch).

Each competitor would line up at the start and wait for the starter to wave him off. The starter transmogrified into the timekeeper by the time each competitor got to the finish.

The first few rounds were close-fought and eventually it all came down to one last race. I think I should have been awarded the win there and then because the bike was far too small for me. I'm pretty much like Big Mig, Sean Yates, and Tom Boonen - in height, just minus the muscles and talent on a bike. But no, we had to have one final round didn't we... !

My mates put up PBs and I was last off. I hurtled from the start at the kind of speed that only an over-sized teenager on an under-sized bike can manage. Surely the win was on? Well it might have been, but a minor rut in the road surface had other ideas... I hit the rut while powering at full-speed out of the saddle and felt a shockwave judder through the frame of the bike. It was all too much for the temporary clothes-peg gear-repair...

My memory of events goes into Sam Peckinpah slow-mo mode here ! The clothes-peg fell off and there was a twanging noise as the severed gear cable came loose. The chain lost tension as the rear derailleur went walkabout. My body became weightless for a few moments as I launched forwards. In mid-trajectory I smacked my right knee into the handlebar stem but ignored the pain of that because I was rather more concerned with where my helmetless-head was going. In fact it was destined for a close-encounter-of-the-tarmac-kind but fortunately I seem to have a thick skull. Emergency braking was now required so I dug my left shoulder down hard onto the road surface and that eventually did the trick. I actually slid across the finish line but the damn timekeeper was distracted by my screams and forgot to look at his watch. Drat - I could have had 'em all !

I was helped to my feet my mates. They were all looking at my shoulder in a "So that's what they're made of!" way which I found distracting so I took a look myself. Once I came out of the faint, my mates were kind enough to help me to my feet again and then... a strange wailing sound erupted from my body. It was pretty scary, I can tell you!

Being a fickle teenager, I'd completely lost interest in the results of our race by then. I decided instead to play a new game called Let's reduce a big strong 13 year old man to a lanky little boy crying for his mummy - I was good at that!

So there I was with my shirt ripped off and covered in blood. It would be a major understatement to call my injuries road rash. I looked like a specimen from The World's Most Gruesome Autopsies - Ever! A big flap of flesh was lolling to one side of my shoulder and revealing some white bits with sort of gory red stuff on them. I've no idea what all that was but it seemed like a good idea to frighten my mother with it so I ran home and got her to take a look. She was so impressed that she wanted to show it off to people at the local hospital's A & E (or Casualty Department as they used to call them in those days) but I told her that it wasn't necessary. She tried to persuade me to go but I didn't want to so she cleaned the wound out with hot water and sterilised it by tipping a bottle of iodine into it - would the fun never stop!

My shoulder hurt for months after that so I wouldn't be surprised if I'd actually cracked a bone or two as well. I've got some nice scars to show for it.
 

tyred

Legendary Member
Location
Ireland
Remarkably few. I seem to have been very lucky and sometimes worry I due a serious one. I had my quarterly review (by phone this time obviously with working at home) with my supervisor at work and she is a triathlete and cycles a fair bit most of the work meeting was spent talking about cycling but she seems to crash on a pretty regular basis. I guess she's probably pushing the limits more than I am.

Potentially the scariest since returning to cycling as an adult was in November 2009 when I got caught out on black ice when doing about 18 MPH and landed on my arse and slid down the hill. A big bruise but nothing more serious. The scary part was when I got up to my feet and retrieved the bike, looked up and seen a Honda Accord coming sideways down the road towards me. Clearly the driver had made the same error of judgement as I had. Thankfully I was able to get out of the way but it was one of those really slow motion things where time stands still watching an out of control car coming towards me.

A few years ago I spent most of the summer pottering about on a Gazelle roadster with step-through frame which I had acquired. I took my Carlton out for a ride and stopped to take a photo but because I had got so used to the step-through as I dismounted without thinking I caught my foot on the top tube and headbutted the grass verge!:whistle:

I rode my pre-war Elswick into a hawthorn hedge in the dark a few yards from my parents house as I had just fixed the Miller dynamo lightset and I was looking behind and down to double check if the seatstay mounted tail lamp was working and if it was bright enough to be usable in the 21st century and I guess I veered off course while doing so.

I had a minor off on the Brompton on a tour a few years ago as I tried to cut up on a dropped kerb outside the hostel where I had booked. The drop kerb wasn't quite a drop kerb as it was an inch or so above the road surface and I hit it at an oblique angle. A large wheeled bike would have gone up on it no trouble at all but the little 16" just slid along it and I had a harmless low speed fall.
 

pjd57

Veteran
Location
Glasgow
Posted it on here at the time.
Last year in Glasgow, a driver starts a slow right turn , into my front wheel.
Slow motion stuff. I've got my hands on the car bonnet to stop my fall , as my front wheel gets mangled.
I get up and the driver, very upset , gets out and starts apologies and offering to pay for any damages..

Scrap of paper , and I exchanged numbers with the very flustered motorist, then drag my bike several miles to the closest bike shop.

Great service, they'll stick a new ( used ) wheel on it . Come back in an hour.

Pub lunch and then got out the scrap of paper to phone the driver and arrange to collect money.

On the paper I have is my name and number.

I had a picture of the car number plate but after asking at the local police station I decided just to let it go.
They couldn't pass my details on unless I made a complaint .
I didn't really want to do that .
 

Solocle

Active Member
Location
Dorset / Oxford
First major one - tried to hop a kerb to let a patient motorist pass. Got flipped because it was rather higher than it looked, head+helmet smacked into a lamppost.

Had an off due to a rectangular "pothole" - I was rather pissed, which made claiming too much hassle. But it was dodgy road patching work, so it didn't look like a pothole!

Had a car cut me up approaching a light, I lightly tapped his bumper. He then reversed against my wheel - which emanated a very satisfying plastic cracking noise from his bumper :okay:

Run off the road by a speeding taxi (I myself was doing 25 in a 20). Classic MGIF, he drew level with me and started coming closer. I banged his window to try and get him to back off, there was also a drain cover on the strip I was being forced into. I ended up losing control and skidding down the road. That one went through insurance, he was found fully at fault, hefty £1000 repair bill!

Rear ended by a driver, which pringled my rear wheel, but I stayed upright!

Left hooked by a driver, but that one I was on the brakes and turned with them, so that only my arm glanced their wing mirror (which popped apart rather spectacularly). I stayed upright on that one too!

And the last one was a cleat braking at 30 mph, went sliding out of the middle of the bus lane to the next lane over!
 

roley poley

Senior Member
Location
leeds
Attacked by a black bin bag that flew up from behind a bus and face wrapped me like Alien mallet fracture of finger and a collection of the best gravel a leg and palms could hold
 

roley poley

Senior Member
Location
leeds
I was riding along minding my own business with my partner following behind, when some plonker of a driving instructor decided to stop and chat to his client RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!!! :whistle:

I especially like the sympathetic reading of the speed readout which says OOOMPH !! the sarky g*t:blush:
 

classic33

Legendary Member
Knocked sideways by a bus onto a road closed by ice. Level with the cab when the driver pulled out on me. Me and the bike parted company fairly fast, I tried to put as much distance between it and me.

Knocked into the only railings on a two mile stretch of road by a bus driver. Handle bar smashed the door window. Company failed to find the vehicle, so I went higher with the matter. Driver received a "talking to", but I did get reimbursed for the damage caused to the bike. Local bike shop were helpful in this.

T-Boned by a drunk driver, who had "borrowed" the car(No MOT, insurance or VED for the vehicle. He had no licence or insurance.) from his girlfriend to get home. A bit of a dent left in the bonnet where I landed.

"Site Manager" at work decided to show how fast his new car could stop. Car behind him had to go right to avoid, I went down the left removing his wing mirror. Car behind me just managed to avoid hitting his rear.

He wanted me to replace his wing mirror. I asked for his insurance details. An uneasy peace at work that evening.

In the first three, there was no interest in the incidents by the local police. I was just a nuisance cyclist.
 

ColinJ

Puzzle game developer
I especially like the sympathetic reading of the speed readout which says OOOMPH !! the sarky g*t:blush:
And how the man who got out of the car was more interested in potential damage to the car than the obvious damage to the cyclist's face!

In this case (for once!) the cyclist was clearly 100% to blame though... I have got distracted for a second or so here or there when cycling but for that guy to just ride along staring down...!!! :wacko:
 

Jody

Veteran
I haven’t in over 50 years riding, nearest I came was when a rear wheel collapsed on a cattle grid but I kept control somehow and finished standing on two feet so it doesn’t count.
Including the time as a child when you were learning to ride?
 
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