One night last July, I was telling my girlfriend how awesome I am at picking late-night drunken routes home from various bars. As I was looking at her and explaining how amazing I am, she slowed down.

I slowed down, too, and way faster than her, but only because I hit a speed bump going 15 mph, which is apparently why she slowed down. I hopped into the air and somehow (and I attribute this to being exceptionally drunk) ended up standing over my crashed bike; my feet were the only part of me to touch the ground.

That's been my only fall in the past three years.