Eary ouchy woe
Many many years ago, when I were young, daft and fit as a butcher's dog, I used to cycle everywhere.
One fateful night, having finished a late shift portering at the local hospital, I was cycling home. I had an appointment with a beer at my local, so was not hanging around. Now chez Achtungmeinfield is in a village, way out in the sticks, so the last couple of miles of my journey home were down unlit tiddly country lanes.
Because I was skint/stupid/whatever, I tended to ride without lights if there was enough moonlight to see by, as it added to the atmos. Handily, this night, I had found a car to follow down said country lanes, so its headlights were providing lots of useful illumination for me as I pedalled like a bastard, keeping up with it.

Now one section of the ride home is a looong downhill stretch, so I and my beneficent companion were travelling at a rare old rate of knots at the point where I took a right turn to join another even teenier country lane that took me home, also unlit. The car, however, didn't turn right. He carried on down the hill. Also he took his headlights with him. Which meant that I suddenly found myself hurtling at great speed,with no night vision, completely blind, down this hedge-lined country lane.

Time did its usual thing of slowing down in these situations, so I vividly remember out of the blackness an area of even blacker blackness looming up at me, identifying it as a hedgerow, thinking "Oh fu.." BLAM

Shortly afterwards I came to, prone in the middle of the road. Managed to stagger up and grab the pushbike but, night vision now returned, it became obvious that the thing was fucked and I'd have to stagger the rest of the way home on foot. At that point I also felt something dripping down the right side of my neck, so I reached up to feel what was going on at the side of my head. As I did so, with my fingertips encountered a piece of warm, sticky flesh about an inch further away from my skull than I would normally expect to find any flesh. Eeek. My ear. Need to get home, like sharpish.

I threw the cycle to one side and proceeded to totter the rest of the way home. A couple of cars came by and I desperately tried to flag them down but, for some reason, they were't that keen on stopping for some mad swivel-eyed loon,covered in blood and with his ear hanging off.

Finally got home, pounded on the door. When my brother answered, his mouth went a funny O shape, and his face lost a couple of shades of colour. Youngest sister came galloping up to see what the fuss was about. Some vomiting happened.

Carted off to local A&E, where all were suprised to see me back so soon. Carted off to East Grinstead to have all it sewn back on again and all the gravel carefully removed. Scar? You betcha.

TL;DR Knobhead totals pushbike in the dark, skids along the road on his head, rips large chunk of ear off in the process.
(Achtungmeinfield, Tue 3 Dec 2013, 13:22, Reply)