Buns of Bitumen
My grandfather used to own a cabin in the mountains, which was accessed by a long, steep, rough, asphalt and gravel driveway. Maybe 30 meters long, average 20 degree angle. At said cabin, there was a Big Wheel--you know, those plastic trike things. This was an old one, no stupid wheely bar or seat back. Anyway, I would get on this thing and ride it down the driveway, reaching about mach 2 by the bottom. One day I also discovered that by leaning back, it was very easy to pop and sustain a wheelie--so naturally, I took to seeing how far down the hill I could get on just the back wheels.

Until I went too far back and slipped off the back (plastic seat, no backrest, remember?). Since I had already broken the sound barrier by this point and brakes were nonexistent, I proceeded to drag my sorry behind all the way to the bottom of the hill, leaving behind a rather lot of flesh, and replacing it with gravel and dirt.

Didn't stop me riding of course, but I never leaned back again. My brother eventually broke the Big Wheel by deliberately riding off the driveway into a field--but by that point we had upgraded to scooters, anyway.

Also, last night I zipped my foreskin into my fly.
(+3 Baroque Vambrace of Icthyology, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 1:26, Reply)