I went flying on this guy's little single-engine plane. We landed at a tiny airport, and they had courtesy bikes for people to ride around the town. I soon came to realize this was quite the misnomer.
I was moving along at a good pace, when the seat violently collapsed and tipped forward. I tried to regain my balance by standing on the pedals, but it was one of those bikes where backpedaling actuates the rear brake. So the rear wheel soon tried to exchange places with the front which sent me flying. The guy I was riding with was ahead of me, and noticed something was amiss when one of my sandals went flying past him. I fell off to the side and the damn bike kept tumbling.
There was about a 10 foot long curvy skid mark from the locked up rear tire, soon followed by paint, foam from the seat being torn open, and some clothing shreds, skin, and blood contributed by me. I remember sitting on the ground, somewhat in shock, and thinking "If I had to injure myself on a stupid bike, at least it left a lot of cool looking marks all over the road."
After getting home I called my mom, and said "I went out on a friend's 4-seater plane today. Had quite a crash. Quite a few scrapes and bruises, lost some blood, but I'm okay." After giving her a few seconds to freak out I said "Oh yeah, forgot, the crash was when I fell off a bike." Her response: "YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
