I dropped a chain last weekend and pulled over to take care of it. There was a little channel in the gravel at the edge of the road. Instead of turning and crossing over it, I merged into it in parallel. As I tried to get further off the road, my upper body went but my wheel stayed in the channel and over I went at about 4mph and slowing into the gravel, unable to clip out. :) thankfully, no one was around to see it.

came up a steep hill to the crossroads. The camber on the road was pretty steep, I put my foot down on where I thought the road was, it wasn't, cleat slide, bike flip and very red face... twisted brake hood and sore ass, but no real damage except to pride. Funny thing was, i got home and the front tire which I had managed to scrap across the road trying to stop the fall, flatted.

More of a 'fall,' but last fall I did the old unclip right foot and lean left when coming to a stop. Of course it was at a 4-way stop, with cars all around. Nothing to do but laugh.

in my own drive-way right in front of my garage. The garage door was up and I was just going to roll right in. However I have a 1" lip to go over at the entrance of the garage. Hit the lip thinking I had enough speed to go over it. I hit the lip bounced back and then I tried to unclip and stalled. Landed on my right side and was freakin embarressed. The kids saw and so did the neighbor!

Brings to mind another fall on a motorcycle. Came up to a red light on my 1000 Kawasaki GSX. I was putting my foot down to balance when my shoe lace got caught on the footpeg and the whole bike leaned to the right. At the time my hands were not on the steering wheel. The whole bike fell over and all I could do was jump out of the way so I didn't get crushed. That wasn't the most embarressing part. The miserable part was trying to lift a 400lb bike off the ground. It took me two tries but I got it up.

Middle of day to, so there were tons of witnesses/ laughers!

I onced bit it trying to avoid a seemingly dead oppossum. The crash was so loud that the oppossum got up and ran away. Stupid ugly varmin.

Back in my single college days, was coming up to a stop light and was flirting with some girls in a car also approaching the stop light. Unclipped my right foot which is my normal, only to lean left to try and talk with the girls. Only thing hurt was my pride, but hey I got a phone number out of it.

I did something comparable several years back. End of a long ride. I normally pull up just shy of my driveway - as it is essentially gravel - although for some inane reason I thought that I would just ride across the mouth of my driveway. Well, as it had recently rained quite hard, there was a nice little trench (for lack of a better word) that caught my front wheel and flipped me over. Now I landed on the far side of the drive on the grass - but with me on my back and my bike above me happily emptying the remaining contents of my areo bottle on my face for being such a bonehead. Good thing was that there was nary a scratch to the bike or me.

riding into the loose gravel driveway of the local "water stop/general store" for every triathlete/biker in Katy, TX, my old, worn tire slides out from under me and I fall on my hip; luckily (or not, according to my husband) my old outdated phone was in that pocket and it got me a new phone, but my pride still stings EVERY time I ride into that store

I got taken out and had some road rash and sholder pain on the left side. Nothing serious, just some soreness for a few weeks. then on my first ride back out on the roads our little group stops for pastries at a very popular spot. We push off and it's slightly uphill, one foot clipped in, and I slip clipping in the other shoe, stall, and fall over in front of all the blue haired locals.

To sorry part is that as I was tumbling over in humiliated, all I could think about was, "at least I'm not falling to the same side as last time".

On the back-end of a 30mi ride, I flatted on the front, fixed it, started again and it immediately started pouring rain. I determined this after the ride, but at some point in my previous ride, I lost one of the screws for my left bike cleat and for the last 12mi or so of this ride, my shoe was turned about twenty degrees off-center and I didn't have the right hex wrench to fix it on the ride.

The rain subsided, and as I turned the corner on the beautiful Chicago Lakefront path, I discovered someone in their infinite wisdom had decided to block off the path for an unofficial run, causing me to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into sixty people. I slowed down and veered into the grass, my front wheel easily making it over the two-inch high metal edging along the grass.

My rear (pun intended) was not so lucky. Because of the acute angle, once my wet rear wheel hit the edging, my bike slid out from under me, and I was on the ground before I even realized I was falling. It does wonders for your ego to eat sh!te in front of sixty people. I got up, brushed myself off, said "it's been one of those mornings" and rode off with grass stains on my ass.

I didn't so much crash, as have a bike attack me.

On the 4th a few of us put the final touches on our fixed gear tall bike.
It's essentially 2 old school 70s road frames welded atop each other with a fixed gear hub, no brakes, and a tiny set of handle bars from a tiny child's bike.

Well, I was riding around, post 4th of July tamale party, and was overjoyed about mastering a running mount on our beast of a contraption.

When, while dismounting a 7ft high saddle to let a co-fabricator give it a whirl, my sandal clad foot slipped from the lower top tube and I hit the ground running just in time to give a shout of pride in my agility before the left pedal struck me in the head.

Tada! It was then time for a sangria. Or 6

Ha! jarhead's Kawasaki story reminded me of my own. (What is it about this make?!)

I was riding my fully-laden KZ1100A across Canada one summer long ago, tenting as I went, blasting upwards of 1,000km/day. When in the big sky country of rural Manitoba I saw a huge storm brewing on the horizon, so I pulled over to the gravel shoulder of my two-lane road to pull on my rainsuit. I set the bike on its kickstand and turned away to shove a leg into my rain pants. Unfortunately the shoulder's camber was a tad steeper than I counted on, so the bike was perched quite vertically. Sudden gust of wind, followed by a terrific crashing sound. I spun around to see the bike laying on its side, tilting downwards towards the ditch. Gas was spouting out of the tiny vent hole on the gas cap. I looked down each direction of the highway... nothing but the cliche heat shimmers. Crickets chirping. It would seem I was on a more isolated road than I realized. Or was I?
Standing there with mounting panic I somehow got that sense that I was being watched; it turns out that a herd of cows was lining the fence at the roadside. They were chewing their cud, not a care in the world, just watching - I suppose - to see what my next move would be. Somewhere in a field a cicada buzzed.

Jarhead, I took a lot more than two tries to get that pig upright (I tip my helmet to you), but I must say it is amazing what fear, adrenaline and leaking gas can do to motivate a person. I wedged various body parts into the "pile" I had formed myself into under the bike, incrementally raising it. I was so hot and tired after that I think I dispensed with the rain suit in the hopes a soaking would be refreshing. Turns out the storm blew to the north and I missed it anyway.

Sure, I've had my share of clipless falls but never have I felt as silly as being on stage in front of an audience of indifferent bovines. Tough crowd...