I think I may have fodder for the dumbest thing EVER done on a bike:
It was about 20 deg F, and I rode my fixed gear with a pair of sweats over tights and a cycling jersey and shorts (with a windbreaker shell over top). I had just glued my tubs onto my fixed gear. My only head gear was a thin poly hat with a balaclava over it.
It has been six years since I have ridden a fixed gear of any type. I did put a front brake on it. Anyway, I was riding in my subdivision trying to get used to it. I turned it into a workout. I don’t remember what I was trying to do, but I obviously forgotten that a fixed gear does not coast.
I ended up going under the bike (as I was smart enough NOT to wear my cycle shoes on the pedals), scraping my elbow and my chin. I turned the stem 90 degrees. But silly me just got back up, straightened the stem, and went on riding, making sure that I was very conscious of where my feet were. If I were to slow down, I would put on the front brake, as well. I would stop completely to get a drink of water, which I also made sure to wipe my lips (as the wind could freeze the water onto my lips, which would not be good).
Someone has to have done something dumber than this (I hope). Let’s hear the stories.
well, this is probably not quite what you had in mind, but it does fit the criteria of the topic. Two things I have always done since very young, ride bikes and shoot bow/arrows (compound and recurve). At any rate, one time when I was about 12 or so, one of my friends and I decided that I needed to ride my bike down the street adjacent to my back yard and try to hit the target with my PSE Pacer (old school compound bow). This was accomplished by building up enough speed to ride without hands on my high-tech Coast to Coast 12 speed bicycle and basically trying to copy what you see Indians doing in the movies, shoot the bow while moving. During the contemplation of our stunt, we also decided that the safest place for my friend would be behind the haybales (i.e. target). Anybody that has shot into hay knows that there are “loose” spots in the bales where arrows pass right through. So, you have to imagine all of the following happening at one time: I was riding down the road without hands and shooting towards the hay bales, the arrow went through the bale that my friend was behind narrowly missing him and sinking into the side of the garage - This is what my father saw as he walked around the corner of the house. So, while I didn’t quite agree at the time, I know see why that stunt was labled the dumbest thing ever done involving a bicycle by my father.
10:ride 15 miles carrying a crest power amp in a courier bag.
9: ride 2 miles carrying a pony keg in a back pack.
8: unwittingly ride smack into the middle of the WTO riots in Seattle (tear gas, anyone?)
7: break away solo the first day of a stage race, staying away for an hour. this was compounded by…
6: going again a lap later for 45 minutes (and, of course, riding in to the finish solo after I got caught and dropped by the pack…)
5: Flip off a guy in a lowrider, in front of his girlfriend. He chased me for about 10 minutes, including down a 1 way street and DRIVING ON THE SIDEWALK!
4: Riding home from a night of drinking (years ago!) I was so out of it I forgot to hit the brakes after I jumped the curb in front of my apartment. SPLAT! right into the side of the building - and all in front of the cute girl from upstairs…
3: Run a red light, not noticing that the 3 guys on bikes doing really desperate trackstands were all cops…
2: agree to take a job in the bike industry…
1: Cyclocross Nationals, Y2K, Kansas city.
-20 degrees and worse, green anti-freeze slushies dribbling out of the pressure washer.
Watching the ENTIRE juniors front row fall down 5 feet into the race, get up, and fall again 50 meters later was a sublime expression of just how silly 2 wheel transit can be. Racing in those conditions was just nuts - so stupid it was fun.
Well I may be dumber than your average redneck but…
-In 1972 while riding way under the influence I hit a phone booth, with a guy in it at 0200 hrs.
-Rode Xterra Maui on a single speed mtb.
-Did an International Distance Tri on a track bike with no brakes.
-Got a free metal milk can from a dairy farmer and rode the last four days of RAGBRI with it on my rear rack full of ice and beer. Can you say unstable at speeds?
-Tried to run over a rattlesnake in 1968 and got it caught in my front spokes.
-Hit a very dead opossum in the 1980 Louisiana state TT that exploded all over my legs and had to keep going for eight miles on a 96 degree day.
That is it for now I may have a couple more later.
round the block we lived on no handed, only problem was it was about 3/4 of a mile of which half was a gradual up hill, a 1/3 flat and the balance a steep downhill.
4 Corners, one of which on the steepest hill so you had to start half way up that hill so you’re going slow enough to make the turn then the rest of it is basically all up hill or flat and when you return to the downhill you have time to slow before you go base over apex at the turn.
Anyway made it round the first corner, thought I was home free until the car coming towards me felt it could get between me and the parked cars, one speed wobble later and absolutely no skin left on any of the fingers on my right hand and pieces of my ring and index finger remain to this day in the road outside my parents house. Still have the scars but did eventually make it round the block.
First - Immediately after turning my head to check out an attractive blonde running on the bike trail, I ran off the trail and into a picnic table.
second - Coming to a very slow stop at a 4-way stoplight right beside a schoolbus full of students, I had my weight shifted to the wrong side and couldn’t clip out of the pedals and fell over, my bike fell on top of me and my aero bottle spilled gatorade all over me - you should have heard the howling from the schoolbus.
third - Well, lets just say never try to fix a mechanical while riding. For every two times you’re able to do it, the next time you wind up with road rash, a broken bone, or a busted frame.
Dumbest thing done to my bike - forgetting it was leaning against the back of my rig and backing over it.
<< -Hit a very dead opossum in the 1980 Louisiana state TT that exploded all over my legs and had to keep going for eight miles on a 96 degree day.
G-Man, that sounds like something right from the pages of the old RoadKill Calender
The top three I can think of off hand:
as a young kid, riding beside a friend, me on a 10 speed, him on a bike with high rise bars, our bars got locked from riding too close, we both go down, with both of my hands going into the spinning wheels. Still have the scars from that one
In high school, a friend took off on my new ten speed, in an attempt to stop him, I threw my book bag at him. Said bag missed him and hit the front wheel instead, locking it up. He went over the bars, bag ruined the front wheel and bent the fork.
Around 1989 or so, while competing in the National Duathlon Championships in Ontairo CA, attempted to ride out of transition with my Giro Aerohead helmet on backwards. No wonder I had a hard time getting it buckled.
Aside from riding in the bitter cold totally unprepared, probably the dumbest thing I ever did to my bike was cut my old drop bars at the curl to make them look like a set of bullhorn bars. I did that about 4 years ago when I was too cheap to make the investment. Instead of going out and buying an upgrade, I tried to make my own. Big mistake. Ha,HA
As you kbow, I learned quickly that I would be spending more money and buying more bikes as time went on.
Then, there is the time when I sprayed Anti Stat over my bike before a TT last season. Mind you, I did it as a joke but I think it saved me a nano second or so.
I was 9-10 years old. My best friend and I were hyped to go to the High School football game on Friday night, and wanting to make a good impression and fit in with what we perceived the rest of the crowd would be doing, we figured it was of vital importance that we be able to whistle loudly using our fingers.
Not knowing much more about the technique involved other than put-fingers-in-mouth-and-blow we practiced as often as we could. One day, we were on our way to the Boy’s Club for Basketball Practice. I was stylin’ with my new Schwinn Varsity, Blue of course.
Being proficient at riding with no hands, and motivated to continue whistling practice, we were riding along, fingers in the mouth, blowing away. My buddy got a bit of a squeak out, which spurred us into a blowing frenzy.
So, there I am, blowing away for all I’m worth, sitting tall and proud on my Schwinn, when things start to get fuzzy. Then they start to spin a bit, then a bit more. Next thing I know I’m no longer riding but instead sliding along on my right side.
Luckily this was when kids would ride on the sidewalk and I landed on the grass alongside the sidewalk, so grass stains and profound embarrassment were the only injuries.
As a kid, riding my Schwinn Varsity with no hands and actually using my feet to steer. There was a very nasty wreck I still have scars from almost 30 years later. This was about an hour before my Uncle’s wedding. Mom was very pissed.
Jumping huge numbers of trash cans on my bike? Nah, that was cool. Doing it without helmets, as we all did back in the day? That was stupid.
At the end of a 50 miler a few years ago, we pulled up to a buddy who was just getting off work at the LBS. We shouted “Loser” at each other. I rode up to him making the the “L” sign with my hand on my forhead still calling him loser. I came to a stop, forgetting to click my feet out of the pedals, and promptly fell over sideways. They laughed for a long time.
On a century ride about a hundred of us were stopped by a train crossing. The train ended up stopping and blocking us. Everybody started dragging their bike under the train so we wouldn’t have to wait. Luckily we all made it before the train started moving again. Stupid!
…I was riding to the shop one day with a buddy at the start of our ride, through the middle of southeast DC. As we rode along MAryland Av, we were in the left lane about to make the right hand turn across two lanes of oncoming traffic onto 8th st. There were no cars behind us, so I was just coasting along looking at the other side of Maryland Av. Walking on the other side of the rode, in the same direction as us, was a blond girl who was about to cross 8th st.
As I reduced my speed in anticipation of the turn, I couldn’t help but stare at this hot girl. I was trying to think of something to say to her (like she would’ve wanted to get with a skinny guy in spandex anyway) while trying not to run into her, riding along at 5 mph. My buddy behind me was screaming “Tommy, Tommy!” and I couldn’t help but think "He doesn’t think I see the hot girl, but I do. "
No stupid, he saw the dump truck coming the other way down Maryland Av about to turn you into pudding. The truck locked up its brakes and blared the horn, only then was I snapped back into reality, about to lose my life because I was thinking with my little head instead of my big head. Barely made it across the road in front of the truck.
Afterwards I told Sean what I thought he was trying to get my attention for, and he said no, he was watching me die in slow motion, trying to save me. Stupid. I don’t think the girl even saw me.
At age ten: Extra pair of sneakers? No problem! Tie the laces together and drape them over the handlebars… A moderate descent was all it took to snag one of the shoes in the front wheel spokes. The other shoe gave me a stiff uppercut as it spun over the bars just before shoe number one met the back of the fork and stopped the bike cold. I must have flown five yards, but, being ten years old, rolled to my feet more embarrassed than injured.
Last July, at age 37: Carrying two large cups of coffee, piping hot. The real trouble began after I forgot that I hadn’t clipped in (pedals clogged with sand) and I got greedy enough to try and start my coffee. One sip down, one cup in each hand, one bump in the bike path and I was riding with no hands and no feet. Despite the “slow motion” realization that this would lead to an ugly dismount, I held on to the coffee right to end. Having learned little in the last 27 years, I was once again more concerned about being embarrassed than injured. That and sad about losing my coffee.
1st: dumbest was crashing in a crit at 35mph w/ a 20 sec lead in the last turn and a mere 50 yds to the line. I still had 41 yards to go as the pack flew around me. Went down so fast my hands were still in the drops when Ihit the ground. 2 broken bones 1 in the wrist from where it hit the ground the other in the hand from where the bars got ripped out of my hands. Matched my road rash nicely. No scratches on the bike as I valiantly put my body between the road and the bike.
2nd: trying to get the mail my first day in clipless pedals. mailbox next to a thorn bush, feet still clipped. I stop, open the mailbox and promptly fall into the sticker bush. Still have the scars from mutliple deep lacerations. More embarressing was having to have my Mom help me out of the sticker bush while my sister and her friends laughed at me. Even the dog was laughing.
3rd: racing my friend’s restored Model T in front of the high school. The whole school was watching. We didn’t see the cop who happened to also be watching and we both got tickets for speeding in a school zone. To add insult to injury fines really are doubled in school zones. Try explaining “Mom can I borrow $70 bucks and get a ride to traffic court next week”
Who ever had the pony keg idea, I’m throwing a party your invited, bring the pony!
As a kid, on a dare, trying to ride my Schwinn while standing like a tightrope walker on the top tube. I hit a bump in the road…left and right feet went their respective directions, and the top tube and the nether regions got rapidly and painfully together. Of course, I fell off to the side of the bike onto my shoulder and helmetless head, but the resulting road rash and bloody scalp were hardly noticed - by me, at least, my mother was another story.
Once tried to draft a metro bus down Flagler Ave in Miami, and was distracted by a couple of hot little numbers in front of Miami HS. I whistled, they waved, the bus stopped. I stopped too, rather abruptly against the back of the bus. Fortunately, no broken bones, but the front fork, and the handlebars were toast. The ego, however, was thoroughly shattered.
This is easy - IMUSA 2002 - riding uphill in a rainstorm simultaneously trying to feed and empty one of those stupid gatorade bottles into my Jetstream. Didn’t take long for me to wrap my bike around the guardrail and end up in a bunch of sand and shrubbery on the side of the road. Cost me 15 minutes and maybe a Kona slot all told. No more Jetstream for me - and feeding going uphill, I learned not to do that years ago. What I was thinking I will never know.
Last year I tried to adjust the computer wheel magnet in my spokes while rolling downhill at about 20km/h. I lost 1/2cm off the end of my thumb, it got cut off so fast and cleanly I didnt notice until there was blood dripping down my handle bar.
As a crew member for a two-person RAAM team in 2002, I saw some crazy sh*^. About 5 1/2-6 days into the race, at 3:00 something in the a.m., going through the miserable swamps of Oklahoma, one of our riders fell asleep on his bike, coasting down a slight hill. Before we noticed it a HUGE logging truck comes barrelling down the road–going waay to fast as they often do. Our rider starts swerving–still asleep–into the path of the oncoming truck. We’re screaming, the trucks blaring it’s horns…the rider is still dozing. Finally with less than a second or two to spare, he jerks his head, wrenches on the handlebars and misses the truck by less than three feet.
Biking for 7+ days/nights straight with no sleep is one of the dumbest things anyone could ever do.
I always cringe when I remember our old childhood practice of “Ghostriding”. Simply ride your bike as fast as you can toward the precipice of a hill, then jump off before it gets steep and watch 'em go. Remote, grassy hillsides or town streets…didn’t really matter. Forethought was about as foreign an idea as responsibility in those days.