A lot of my stories revolve around crashing bikes. While I don't think I crashed my bike every time I ever rode it, the crashes tend to be more memorable than than uneventful rides.
Back in the mid-nineties, after moving to Colorado, I found myself crashing my mountain bike quite often. I was pushing the boundaries of my skill set on almost every ride, trying to get better and faster on the trail. I was racing on the weekend, and riding 5 or 6 days a week with people who had lived here much longer (and had more talent for it) than I. So, I tended to come home bruised and/or bloody from most rides.
I got the big idea to stick a tape in the RCA videocam and shoot 5 seconds of footage, showing whatever "owies" I might have gotten, each time I came home from a ride. I would come home, load the tape into the camera, and film the bloody knee, or bruised shoulder, or whatever, then take the tape out and put it away without rewinding.
At the end of that year, I rewound the tape and showed the results to my then-wife, Valerie.
"You are weird," she said. "Why would you want something like that?"
It was a bigger hit at the bike shop. Almost ten minutes of scrape after bruise after cut after hematoma after broken collar bone...my riding partners were impressed. We played it, every now and then, for a select customer, but we had to pick and choose who to show it to. Many people were somewhat disturbed by it.
Sadly, I no longer have that particular piece of art. It disappeared from the video shelf, one day, never to resurface.