Not only have I backed over my own bike, but my family has a rich history of backing over bikes for me.
When I was 4 or 5, I had the little red tricycle on which the wasp hid and stung my hand. One day, I parked it in the drive, just like all of the grown-ups. My uncle, Ronnie, came out and got into his 1957 Ford, and backed out of the driveway...over the top of my trike.
That was the end of that particular tricycle. Nothing on it was salvageable.
Five years later, I got Big Red as a birthday present. It was probably less than a week later that I not only left my bike in the drive, but I laid it down rather than propping it on the kickstand. I can't tell you why I did either thing, but I can tell you why my mom ran over the front wheel.
It was because I don't know how to take care of my things, according to Momma.
That particular incident wasn't as destructive as the trike incident. The wheel of the car rolled over the front wheel of the bike, and bent it slightly. But, it was still rideable.
Those old steel wheels may not have been very light, but they were plenty tough. That same wheel was on the bike, 35 years later, when Daddy brought it to me here in Denver, so that I could refurbish it. It was a bit wobbly, but I could still ride no-hands.
It's been a while since one of my bikes got backed over. I am hoping to make it a long while, yet, before it happens again!