Reminds me of the time I was home on leave ridng my YZ360 at the gravel pit near where I grew up. A bunch of guys were roosting up sand piles on Elsinores and what not, so I figured I show them what a Yamaha could do. I got a good run up and lifted the front wheel right before the base, alas, I'd been at sea for a year or so and was a little rusty. The front end dropped and plowed into the sand pile going from 30 or 40 to 0 in 1/2 a second. I of course kept going till my nuts hit the gas cap, vent and steering head and my legs hit the bars.
Classic face plant with me trying not to puke and trying to get untangled from the bike and everyone else laughing thier butts off. That's when I remembered why you're supposed to wear a cup dirt bike riding.
"For there are some eunuchs, which were so born from their mother's womb: and there are some eunuchs, which were made eunuchs of men: and there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake. He that is able to receive it, let him receive it."
There have been some horrible accidents involving farm augers (a long rotating, spiraling blade used to lift grain up into storage bins). One involving my grandfather was more humorous and vaguely similar to your story, in the sense that it involved man vs. furiously rotating, powerful machine. Anyway, he got his overalls caught in the auger, but was strong enough to hang on to part of the tractor so as not to be ingested by the device, which was being driven by at least 45 hp. As it ripped off successive layers off his clothing, he screamed for his hired man to "Shut It Off, Shut it Off!". But the guy was hard of hearing and not the brightest bulb in the pack either. He looked back at my grandfather slackjawed, and repeated "Ehhhh?, Ehhhh?" With most or his clothing ripped off, my grandfather was finally freed to live another day.
That tops my face plant over the handlebars of my kids XR100 returning to the car in the middle of a dozen seasoned dirt bikers, while attempting to wheelie over a small berm.
It tops my debut in the "Family Enduro" with my oldest daughter while I'm riding an XR80 (yes that's right - XR80), lost it downhill, bike swapping ends and being deposited at the base of a tree.
It also tops my launch into a motorcross track at Prairie City after asking 6 professional riders to wait while circulated the track just once on my 1963 Tigercub in December where at the bottom, as I'm trying to avoid the mud in a right hander I discover you can't turn when there is no traction and I'm dumped off the near side smashing my left hand and breaking my middle finger.
The only consolation - with a wife, three daughters and a female dog I had little manhood left to loose.
I rider in my neighborhood recently lost a testicle in an unfortunate street accident -- ran into a car at an intersection and hooked one of his boys on a clip-on. He was wearing leathers. He is back to riding, I think.