Plums
A couple of years back I treated myself to the indulgence of a brand new mountain bike, in exchange for £1700 well earned portraits of the Queen's enigmatically smiling face.

I know what you're thinking; "£1700? For a bicycle? He's fucking mad". And you'd probably be right, so my protestation that my bike is a piece of industrial beauty is do doubt being read by disbelieving eyes. You should see her, you really should... Resplendent in black enamel, made of swoopy bits of aircraft grade aluminium, she'd happily draw many an admiring glance if hung on the wall of the Tate Modern as a monument to industrial design...

Sorry, I drifted away there for a moment. Yes, the post purchase guilt still pangs from time to time.

The following weekend, I arranged to spend a couple of days biking on the Cumbria / Yorkshire border with a friend of mine. Now this is proper off road cycling up and down rocky terrain and admiring breathtaking scenery. My new bike would surely endow me with the kind of skill that would allow me tom hurl myself into the air and perform acrobatic feats like the freeride bikers you see on the cover of magazines?

Not quite.

Preparing to descend a very steep slope, I launched myself downward with reckless abandon, grinning like an idiot safe in the knowledge that his bike will cope with whatever the worst of the UK could throw at it.

With the wind rushing past my ears, I sight a craggy rock garden looming, which had been hidden from view. Facing with making a snap decision, I leaned backwards and yanked on the handlebars, pulling the bike upwards.

"Hupppppppppp"

It was probably the finest piece of riding I have ever achieved, the bike and I skipped the rocks and landed like a feather back on the grass, having picked up a considerable amount of speed on the way.

I was going to get away with it. I was going to get away with it! The elation began to course through my veins in celebration of eluding a nasty accident.

However, my self congratulations were premature. In the style of Douglas Bader, I'd cocked up the landing a smidge. The front wheel had landed exactly where I wanted it, however the rear had stepped sideways a tad. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, physics would take over and snap the bike's path straight.

I was fighting a losing battle now, for the slope was off camber and the grass was wet, so the rear wheel snapped sideways, forcing the bike to jack-knife.

I tried in vain to get the bike pointing forwards, but it just wouldn't happen. Inevitably I fell sideways onto the slippery grass with a bike trapped in between my knees.

"Not like this, no!" I pleaded with the Great Gods of bicycle crashes, my only option considering that I was now a passenger onboard the runaway Nasty Accident Express and headed straight for the bollock buffers.

Sure enough, the front and rear wheels both struck adjacent rocks, arresting the bike in the blink of an eye.

I however, was carried onward by twelve and a half stone's worth of inertia. I felt my inner thigh being thumped by the hard frame briefly before I blacked out.

As the blackness faded, I saw the concerned face of my riding companion looking at me. The lower half of me felt numb and unresponsive. I did not want to move, fearful of what would happen next. I tried to extricate my legs from the frame and immediately winced at the burning pain centered on the inside of my hip joint. The bike was pulled from under me as I woozily protested while my friend helped me to my feet.

*cough* "M-m-my boll..." *cough* "m-m-my n-n-n-nu..." *splutter*

Then the pain started. My lower body slowly sank into a lake of sheer agony, as the pain advanced up my thighs all the way to my waist. Once lapping at my navel, it continued to wash over me in tortuous waves, never subsiding in it's intensity. I nearly blacked out again as I wiped the tears from my watery eyes and struggled to stop myself from puking.

Forty minutes later I'd been helped to the bottom of the hill, with my friend wheeling my beloved bike behind me. Now the bike itself was undamaged, apart from having the handlebars bent out of shape and needing replacement.

I however was anxious to get somewhere private so that I could inspect the damage. With an exaggerated swagger (the only method of locomotion I was capable of), I managed to walk myself into the toilets of a nearby pub.

I had no idea what to expect. Sweat and pain in my lower region partly made me think I was expecting to see blood, so I carefully removed my cycle shorts and assessed the damage in front of me. Everything above the knees and below the navel was an angry bluish-purple. I looked further back still and was greeted by a sight not dissimilar to this, but in stereo.

Epilogue

A week after that incident, I was on best man duty at a wedding. You can see from the DVD that my eyes are slightly crossed and that I'm shuffling with a distinct limp.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 13 Aug 2008, 17:05, 8 replies)

How long before they
"Unripened"?

I had a testicular bruising in Wales when I was 17.
Took two weeks before the blackness faded, then another week for it to settle to a yellow tinge.
( Cawl, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 17:22, closed)

owowowowow
I'm wincing and clutching at my non-existent testicles reading this. Very well-written! *click*
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 17:31, closed)

Did I read somewhere...

That you said you were having a bit of difficulty with this QOTW and felt a bit 'off your game' writing wise?

If so, consider this a return to the tip-toppest of top form sir!

My nad nearly fell off laughing when I saw the pic.!

Spankingly brillo all round!

*clicks till finger bleeds*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 13 Aug 2008, 20:43, closed)

Now THIS
is a proper story that makes me wince where so many others have failed. I don't even have bollocks, so consider this worthy of clickage.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 22:17, closed)

Okay...so...
Iowa. This past July 20th. Day One of the RAGBRAI (the most celebrated, largest and oldest cross-state rides in the States). I am kitted out in my Team LIVESTRONG finery. Complete with LIVESTRONG helm and gloves...and of course, the omnipresent LIVESTRONG bracelet. (just wanted to see how many times I could type "LIVESTRONG" in one paragraph)

About 15 miles into the days ride, a light 52 miles, I am FLYING down this hill and in my big chain ring, cranking away, anticipating having an easier go at the next and immediate hill rapidly approaching...just as I hit the bottom, one of my chain links tweaks 90 degrees and gets jammed in my deraileur and my pedals stop working. STUCK. And me now ascending the hill and RAPIDLY losing forward ground speed.

I waited too long to extricate my cleats from the pedals and WHAM! I fall over on my right hand side, skinning my knee rather nicely, but otherwise, suprisingly unhurt. It was then, as I was laying on my right side, taking inventory and wondering how I was going to get my legs out of the tangle of my bike when "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM" right in the back of the head, some git ran RIGHT into me AND "OVVVVVER" my head with his front tire.

Yep. My Shiney new LIVESTRONG helmet was an absolute MESS. Broken pieces of foam hanging off, littering the road around my now fetally positioned body.

Did I mention I was wearing my brand new, shiney LIVESTRONG kit?

Embarassing.

Hope Your balls are doing better Bro!

Sean/Citadel

PS(What brand of bike is it?)
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 22:25, closed)

Ouch
I feel your pain Citadel. I ruined £100 worth of carbon reinforced Specialized lid a couple of years back when I landed an unplanned 21 foot gap jump on my head.

It's a Specialized Enduro by the way, although mine has been considerably modified, the only original component is the frame itself.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 14 Aug 2008, 11:00, closed)

Bike
I trust at that price you paid more than five pounds for a security lock (or two) and avoided the roller combination crap, at least you don't find bicycles burned out on the nearby 'scheme'.
(Benzyl, Thu 14 Aug 2008, 13:36, closed)

Sympathy *click*
But I ask you - £1700 for some badly bruised knackers? A few choice words in town would get you them for free...
( snee held his breath since, Thu 14 Aug 2008, 14:36, closed)