I swerved to miss the Wiener Dog from Hell. I veered and made my brother crash... He slid on his back for 20 feet.
Apologies to cousin Becky, who's pups I've used as reference. No harm meant.
My brother and I would take "bike hikes" on our crappy little Schwinn one speeds bikes with Ape Drape handle bars and banana seats. We'd venture waaay out of our neighborhood on loops exceeding 20 miles. Mom never knew where we were, but that was the entire point.
One day we were about 10 miles from home, doing around 40 mph tearing down a mile long incline. At the bottom of the hill, a snarling Dachshund ran out in front of me. I could have killed it, but I swerved in front of my brother, which made him crash. He slid on his back and shoulder down the pavement. Remember those Tank top Tees from the 1970s? That was the extent of his protective gear.
My brother remembers it this way:
I have told this story many times. I still have the scars on my left shoulder and elbow. From skidding down the road on my left side and face. I tell the story not because of the wipeout , but the fact that the dog owner took us inside and asked where we lived, cleaned some of the gravel out of the wounds, threw a couple band aids on my cuts and sent us on our way, for the trek home, never called mom just patched me up, as if, 'you're OK kid, now go home.'