Whenever I was a small boy, probably around 9 or 10, I had a black BMX bike with a motorcycle style seat on it. I think we got it from the Baldwin’s pawn shop where the par-T-Pub is now bu ti could be wrong. I rode it down a hill and launched myself perfectly off of a drainage pipe, flying through the air, completely out of control, until thudding into a tree. The trunk caught me across the chest and shoulders and gut and hips and knees and face and kidneys. I was maybe knocked out? No real way of knowing, but I was dizzy and half of my body was numb as I limped the mangled bike back home.
On a side note, here are some more posters, a lot of them glossy and soul-less but still kind of cool