Sometimes, I feel a little frisky and I decide to show off, a little, on the bike. It rarely works out very well for me, though.
One day, a group of us decided to ride up Waterton Canyon and do the Roxboro Loop. There were five or six guys, and we all rode along and had the usual number of near-misses, wash-outs, etc. I was bringing up the rear, as usual, so I got to watch everyone else catch air, or drop a ledge nicely, or whatever, but no one else could even see if I was still there without turning around to look.
At the bottom of the big descent back to the Waterton road, everyone stopped and was standing in a line, talking, as I came down the last steep drop. I let go of the brakes, and let the speed build up.
I blew down the rocky slope, then, at the bottom, grabbed the brake and did a big power-slide up to the group. Rocks flew, a cloud of dust raised and, just as I was coming to a halt, my tire caught and I high-sided. The bike flipped me off, and I fell right onto Cody Hendersons's rear wheel, and knocked him down.
So, there we lay, a tangle of limbs and bikes, in the drifting dust, with everyone hooting and hollering.
It was about then that I decided that I really didn't care if anyone else saw me ride well, or not.