Back around 1980-81, my step-dad had just taken delivery of a brand new Suzuki PE-250.
http://community.webshots.com/photo/55180786/55180939XJFlVF
We both went out for a couple hour trail ride to break the bike in (I rode a PE-175 at the time). After we came back to the cabin and had lunch, he asked if I wanted to take it out for a run. He stayed back at the cabin, and I went back out with my mom (on a Honda 3 wheeler!) for a quick ride.
The 2-track section we were on was much like a roller coaster ride. Nice, smooth, up and down hills that you could run pretty fast in 4th gear or so. With plenty of speed, you could launch off the crest of one hill and land near the bottom of the next hill, and then repeat it again over and over. A really fun section launching every 15 seconds over a hill, but with blind crests at the top of each hill, and frequent run-in's with army tanks, it's the kind of no-fear (i.e. stupid!) riding that only a 16 year old would do.
With my mom far behind, and me in Bob Hannah mode, the adrenaline rush had me pushing 5th gear. On about the 5th hill in the section, as I was accelerating up it, my front tire hit a round, melon-sized rock. Unfortunately I didn't hit it squarely, and the handlebars jerked violently off to the left size, almost as if my spindly 125lb body and toothpick arms were not attached to the bike. Keep in mind that this was long before steering dampers, bark busters, chest protectors, elbow pads, etc. I had on my new hi-tech Bell Moto III full-face helmet, thankfully retiring my bright yellow open-face model the season before. I was outfitted in Hi-Point boots (with the shiny metal shin protector and 10 buckle straps!), gardening gloves, Levi blue jeans, and blue "Have a Nice Day" smiley short-sleeved t-shirt.
What was supposed to be me and the bike shooting off the top of the 2-track trail, turned instead into a sudden and violent 60 degree turnoff straight into the woods. The first 30 feet or so were pretty uneventful. Other than my death grip on the handlebars, I was just along for the ride as the bike blasted and bucked through hidden logs, stumps, and saplings like a pissed-off bull at a rodeo.
With every bump, stump, and buck of the bike, my white-knuckled grip on the throttle only served to antagonize the beast. The whip-like saplings, however, soon gave way to their much bigger brethren, and my senses were keenly sharpened. The grouping of 2 foot diameter trees were more than eager to help slow down my spontaneous and amateurish attempt at "event trail". Fortunately, some remnant of my 7th grade science class came back to me, as I remembered the intrinsic reflex of "fight of flight". Target fixation quickly gave way to self-preservation, and I bailed off the bike like a spooked cat the instant the front end slammed into the tree.
I'm not sure how high the back of the bike lifted off the ground upon impact, as I continued on past the tree and tumbled safely onto some vegetation and musty, rotted tree limbs. The forest can sure be a quiet place once the trees stop whizzing past your head. After a quick head-to-toe inspection, it was time to walk around the tree and pick up the bike, laying lifeless, save for a spinning front wheel. Wow... doesn't look TOO bad. Hmmmm.... Pick it up, and straddle it. Oh-oh... Why is the front tire almost touching the engine? Why won't the forks compress? Oh-oh.... THIS ISN'T MY BIKE!!!! Thus began "The longest trail ride home..."
Limping back to the cabin, thoughts raced through my head on how to "fix this" (i.e. HIDE this!) from my step-dad. All in all he was pretty cool about it. His comment was that his insurance would have covered my medical bills, but the bike repairs I pay for! And guess who had to ride the old Suzuki DS-185 for a few weeks while my step-dad rode my PE-175 until his forks were replaced (metal tank... and it was ORANGE!).
http://community.webshots.com/photo/55180786/66768123NoPgFJ
The bill came to almost $400. Ouch.
Although I felt like a damn fool for wrecking his new bike, I didn't feel as stupid as when I accidentally shot the gas tank of the family jeep, but that story is for another forum...