That's good story right there, I guarantee you.
Yeah...just one of those alcohol fueled dumbass moments. I'd been shooting the breeze with a bro from Canada I hadn't seen in ages, and we just sat there straddling our bikes headed in opposite directions with the engines shut down cause hogs don't like to run sitting still. I kicked mine into gear as the last few beer kicked in so the bike wouldn't roll, and when we were done catching up, I hit the starter and lurched the bike forward. Laughing, I found neutral on the first try, but I ended up rolling back, going downhill backwards into a ravine through a bunch of 4-6 inch and larger trees. Once the rear tire hit the steep stuff only a few feet behind me, there was no stopping. I was tipping right, so I couldn't use the back brake and the front wheel just slid in the leaves.
God looks out for fools, drunks, pregnant women and Scottsmen, and I hit my three out of four that day (leaning heavily on the Scotts fraction, too).
I missed all of the trees and ended up at the bottom of a steep hill with the bike tipped over laying on my leg and laughing my ass off. I didn't get so much as a scratch. Three bros popped their heads over the edge, expecting the worst, came down shaking their heads, and helped get the bike off me, one (Road Captain) 'grounded' me for a few hours and we got the bike to camp, none the worse for wear. When I sobered up and realized how easily that could have ruined my weekend, I just got ripped celebrating my good fortune, but the bike stayed on the kickstand until the next day.