In 1984 ish I was pratting around on a very understanding friend's Bonneville in Durham, on disused land near gravelly railway sidings.
The inevitable happened and the back wheel slid, being only five foot four inches tall, I admirably grappled for control,thinking of his newly custom painted tank, and swiftly lost it.

Ended up in casualty with the understanding friend, and a broken bone in my foot. As luck would have it the attending dashing young doctor who was also a Triumph fan took pity on me, and explained that you only have to pay if the motor vehicle is moving at the time of the accident. He wrote his report to say that I was merely sitting astride the stationary Bonnie and it fell to one side, thus injuring the now throbbing foot.

The upside was I didnt get hit with a hefty bill. The downside was it snowed about 12 inches that night and I had to endure my journey back to London the next day riding pillion, with a pair of crutches under my left arm and my now balloon sized foot wrapped in plastic bags and scarves propped up on the same understanding friends thigh.

Not a good way to travel. But better than a night in a cell, marginally.