What better way to introduce myself than with a war story?
Two summers ago I was hanging out on the Stone Arch with some friends late at night. I decided to race off to the downtown side with a friend on my new road bike. Unfortunately, it was very dark and I didn't know the Stone Arch too well so as I turned left at the end of the bridge, I failed to see the humongous pot hole right in the middle of the path. Managed to brake some, but the bike flew into the hole and I endoed at pretty high speed. I stood up, seemingly unscathed, and noticed something hot streaming down my face. Realizing I was gushing blood, I took off my shirt and used it to bandage my head. I biked back to my friends, told them I'd be leaving prematurely and biked home to Dinkytown. Washed up and went to bed.
This is before I'd cleaned up much:
The kicker is, a couple days later I rode back to the bridge to check out the bath-tub sized pot hole in daylight and found out the city had already covered their asses:
Luckily, the actual damage from the crash was pretty minimal. Just had some scratches on the hands and a single gash on the head, which ended up not needing stitches. Bike was fine. Could have been a lot worse, especially given that I didn't own a helmet at the time