A couple days before the 2008 Beijing Olympics, I was on a C&V group ride that a friend in Lancaster, PA was hosting. I was using the ride as a bit of a shakedown for Shadowfax, my 1970 Raleigh Professional, which had been freshly repainted. The riding was just a bit spirited, and as I was making a right turn and trying to make up a little bit of ground on a few people who were ahead of me, I leaned into the turn a bit. I wasn't pushing any envelopes, but there was some fine gravel on the roadway, and my tires lost their grip. I felt myself washing out as if it were in slow motion, expecting to come out of it all the way until my right shoulder and thigh were dragging on the ground. Other than several 0 mph clipping incidents, I have never (as in zero times) fallen off my bike since the day I first learned to ride. I was in such disbelief that I was still holding the handlebars when I came to a stop (probably a very good thing, in hindsight).

Fortunately, one of the fellows on the ride was able to give me a quick patching up, and I was game to continue until one of my tubulars flatted (yes, it was a Rally). When my pump failed to do the job, and all the others had gone past, save the ride's host, the sag wagon was called for. It was my only experience with true road rash, my better Raleigh jersey became a memento of the occasion, and fortunately, only one chip to the paint.