A couple years ago I went to my buddy's going-away party and got smashed on Rhinelander beer (and a horrid drink made from the ends of a few different liquor bottles + wine). I had a Schwinn 5-speed Collegiate that I'd trash picked months before, and I had about 20 blocks to get home.

It was 3am on a Saturday in the middle of the summer, and the usual post-bar traffic was on the road. Lightless, I decided screaming was the best way to let people know I was coming. I started singing at the top of my lungs. No idea what I was saying, but I remember it being damn fun.

Seconds later, while climbing a hill, the grip slides completely off the bars (moustache-y cruiser type) in my hand and I almost fell over sideways. I found myself screaming, drunk as hell, weaving out of control, waving a detached rubber grip in hand. Absurdity...