The best fall I ever saw wasn't mine. About thirty years ago I was in a group of 40 or so riders about 50 miles into a double century. We were going about 30-35 mph as we approached a T-intersection. Since the CHP was notorious for hanging out at the rural stop signs on this ride, we all yelled out that a stop was imminent and began to slow down. Someone a bit behind me didn't hear or see what was going on. This guy literally flew over my shoulder upside down. He landed in a gap between the two rows and slid across the intersection and into the ditch on the far side. Surprisingly, his cleats never came off his pedals and he just rolled over and rejoined the group (minus some of his jersey and the back of his shoulder). I talked to him a while later and he was embarrassed but unhurt.

My own best spill was 1/4 mile from my home. A carcissist buzzed me in a 25 mph zone then he slowed down and moved into the oncoming lane. I held my speed (20-25 mph) and then he swerved back into my lane in an attempt to hit me. He missed, but I couldn't stop in time so after he left a 13 foot skid mark my bike stopped on his bumper. Unfortunately, my town bike had upright handlebars that curve back towards the rider so I hooked my right thigh on the bar on my way over. That led to both a nasty bruise and the need to add a 1 1/2 twist to the already necessary flip. The fat creep was rather surprised to find me standing next to his door when he got out. Since in my town cyclists are treated like blacks in the South, I knew that having witnesses to the attack would not do any good (it didn't). I hoped to goad the driver into throwing his fist so I could "defend" myself. Unfortunately, he could see my desires and crawled away.

It was one of the few times in my life that I have been prepared to kill a man. This time I'm not sure letting him live was the right thing to do, but it saved me from having my wife watch what would have been total exposure of my darkest side. I just can't wait for the end of cheap oil.