In the pre-cellphone era, when I was a bit more of an agressive rider, due to heavy traffic I took a turn too fast. To compound it, the corner was less than 90 degrees and I went down hard. Fracture/dislocation of the elbow.

As I sat on the side of the road I knew I couldn't ride and wasn't sure what to do. One of the cars that, as I saw it (ah, the anger of youth), forced me to go too quickly stopped and offered a lift. Being the paranoid sort, I declined. OK, so I wouldn't take a ride, did I want him to call someone--after all, he said, his car was filthy and there was definitely room to write a phone number or two in the dirt. I chuckled, almost accepted the ride and then, said, no, just call the local cops.

Before the guy returned from the phone call, the cops were there (hey, at the time it was a smallish, low-crime town and this was something to do for them) as well as the paramedic vehicle. Since my blood pressure was 80/60 at the time the paramedics took over, my bike tucked away at the police station and I was being hauled off for repairs.

I never got a chance to thank that odd stranger (thank you, sir!)...his bizarre humor took the edge off.