I once went skidding down Independence Pass on my side at around 30 mph and almost under a moving car that managed to stop at the last minute. My bike was mangled (the tire had popped off the rim), but I came out of it with only a broken thumb, lots of road rash, and some damaged nerves on my hip. It's funny how a brush with one's mortality can slow you down, in a good way. I'll never get over looking up at that car's bumper mere inches from my head. That was the beginning of a transition to 100% hiking/walking and slowing down and enjoying smelling the roses. I sometimes miss my bike, but not enough to get another one.