I gave up trail bike riding growing up in the PNW way long ago. I think the straw that broke the camel's back (luckily not mine) was when I missed a tight trail turn and flew into a big old cedar stump. Thankfully, it was logged probably 80+ years earlier and it was so rotted that I buried the bike past the handle bars and launched myself over and into a bed of mossy, ferns and decaying stuff. Softest running into a wall possible. My buddy took a few minutes to circle back and find me and then only asked where is the bike? I pointed and he squinted looking around. Pretty funny when he finally found it.