Back around the late '50s myself and a couple buddies just hanging out in our neighborhood one summer day witnessed a man riding a big Harley dresser lay it over intentionally when, apparently unfamiliar with our neighborhood, suddenly realized he had fired it up on what turned out to be a dead end street. The rider wound up with the worst case of 'road-rash' I've ever seen still to this very day.
The down side of his body was a raw, bloody mess, with bits of dirt, grit, and grime embedded practically head to toe. He either let go of the cycle or broke free of it just before it hit and jumped a concrete curb landing on the side walk and in front of the steps to a house. He was conscious and still able to stand up and talk but clearly was in some real serious pain.
Been a long time ago but still haven't forgot hearing the sound and sight of sparks flying from that motorcycle sliding on it's side on the pavement with him underneath.
