Favorite Crash #1: Semi-Charmed Kind of Crash
Let me be clear right up front: The semi was not actually close to running me over as I lay sprawled out on the highway, my bike on top of me.

To hear the (perhaps embellished) eyewitness accounts of that crash — which happened as a group of nine of us crossed U.S. 36 on a three-day ride from St. Joseph to Hannibal — is to hear of a death-defying escape, is to hear of a terrifying scamper away, is to hear muffled laughter of my friends delighting in mocking me because the crash was so impossibly lame: I was going so slow I fell over sideways when a friend (ahem) cut me off.

The truth is, I had plenty of time to pick up myself and my bike from the hard concrete, dust myself off, and hustle to the median before the semi barreled over the spot where seconds before I had been squeezing out from under my Salsa.

When I texted my friends recently to ask them what they were thinking as it happened, they said in quick succession:

“Did that news reporter just die?”

“Who else knows how to write a story?”

“Crap, now I’m the slowest guy in the group.”

All of which is why this has a stranglehold on the No. 1 spot in my (embarrassingly) long list of bike crashes. 

Favorite Crash #2: The No-Handed Flip
I was 15 and pedaling through a park. I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets to keep them warm, which left no hands for the handlebars.

Suddenly my front tire spun perpendicular to the bike, the bike stopped, and I kept going. I sailed over the handlebars, flipped, and executed a flawless somersault landing.

Flat on my back, I looked at the dull, cold, autumn sky…and realized my hands were still in my pockets.

 

The author (fifth from left) with biking pals — many of whom have witnessed him crashing his bike. (Courtesy of Matt Crossman)

Favorite Crashes #3 and #4: Leave Me Here to Die
These crashes came at the end of the Castlewood 8-Hour Adventure Race in 2024. I’d spent the previous 7.9 hours bonking. Now there were maybe 10 minutes left in the event, and even less in my life, I thought, when my teammates said we had to ride through the woods straight down a huge hill to get to the finish line in time and avoid a penalty.

Let’s just take the penalty, I thought but didn’t say. I’m a terrible mountain biker on a trail — what would I do without one? I soon found out, as I coasted down the hill, hit something hidden under leaves with my front tire, disengaged from the pedals, seat, and handlebars, and landed on my face in the leaves.

They were soft. Ish.

I laughed, I cursed, I got back on my bike, I coasted down the hill again, I hit something with my front tire again, I disengaged again, I landed on my face in the leaves again.

They were soft again. Ish.

After that, I walked.

We finished on time.

Favorite Crash #5: This Won’t Hurt a Bit
The first time I rode a mountain bike was at a ski resort in Colorado. I hit a root, grabbed the brakes too hard, and again, the bike stopped and I kept going. This one happened in slow motion. As I flew over the handlebars, I had time to think, I’m wearing a helmet, chest protector, and knee pads, so this won’t hur — SMASH!

I landed in front of a guy with a GoPro on his helmet.

“Did you get that?” I asked.

“I think so,” he said.

I gave him my email address and asked him to send me the clip. He never did.

The best part about all these crashes is that after each of them I got up, I got back on my bike, and I rode away.

And I’m still riding. 

Author: Matt Crossman writes the Finish Line column for Terrain. To sign up for his free newsletter, go here.

Top image: The author riding his bike in safer times. (Courtesy of Matt Crossman)