One in a Trillion Impossible Pro Cycling Saves

One in a Trillion Impossible Pro Cycling Saves

These are some of the most impossible saves ever seen on two wheels.
These aren’t just close calls.
They’re the kind of saves that look impossible… until you slow them down frame-by-frame.
Moments where the difference between glory and disaster is nothing but a strip of tarmac… and a heartbeat of instinct.

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We dive into historic race footage, rider interviews, and official race reports to bring you storytelling and highlights you won’t see anywhere else.

These are some of the most impossible saves ever seen on two wheels. These aren’t just close calls. They’re the kind of saves that look impossible until you slow them down frame by frame. Moments where the difference between glory and disaster is nothing but a strip of tarmac and a heartbeat of instinct. And if you think you’ve seen close calls before, wait till you see what happened on stage 10 of the Voela Espa 2024. Descents are where heroes either get made or folded into dominoes. And on stage 9 of the Vela Espa, Enrich Mass was seconds away from becoming both. He just dropped Rogich flying solo down Hazelanas 70 kmh full gas and then his rear wheel snaps. Bars twitch. The bike goes full rodeo. You can see the full loading frame by frame. And somehow he manages to hold it. No crash, no skid, just a save that makes you question if he’s real. Two heartbeats later, he’s still upright, still flying. The commentators can’t believe it. Enrich Mass manages to say that. How on earth did he do that? The pelin can’t process it. And Mass, he just keeps going like nothing happened. A literal one in a million escape. Honestly, that might be the luckiest 2C highlight in Vela history. But when Mass danced with physics and lived, the next guy saved himself but took everyone else out. Tour to France 2024. There’s no chaos quite like a tour sprint line out. Riders flying at 60 kilometers per hour, shoulderto-shoulder, eyes locked on the wheel ahead. You can’t even see the road. Just trust, instinct, and noise. And in the middle of that blur, tare poga. Cool as ever, tucked low, slicing through air like a jet. But then, out of nowhere, a road sign, barely waist high, invisible until the very last second. One heartbeat of panic, one impossible twitch. He ducks, leans, and slips through a space that shouldn’t even exist. But the guys behind him, no time, no space. One clips the sign, another touches a wheel, and boom. Half the groups on the ground before anyone knows what happened. Tarde rides on. Didn’t cause it, didn’t crash, just dodged disaster like it was scripted. Some call it alien reflexes, others pure luck. But either way, if that save was all about razor sharp reactions in a split second of chaos, the next one’s the opposite. Tour to France 2021. If there was ever a time trial that felt more like a survival test, this was it. It was a scene straight out of a thriller. Stage five of the 2021 tour to France was supposed to be the calm in between the chaos of the bunch stages. Just 27 km against the clock. Instead, every corner had become a gamble. Enter Stefan Bisiger, a what machine built for raw power. He starts the time trial steadily. Head down, chins in the bars, carving through puddle, slick straights at over 70 kmh, chasing ten of a second. Corner after corner, he looks untouchable. until at that speed most riders become passengers. The bikes become carbon confetti, but Biscus stays calm, elbows locked, rides the slide like a rally car drift, and somehow holds the line. The crazy part, he’s still upright, still in arrow mode, still full gas. But if you think that was close, wait until you see how Fabian Canelara came within inches of losing more than just the race. Pariro Bay 2016. Most years, Pariro Bay is just carnage. Bikes rattling to pieces, mud grabbing at tires. But every now and then, it spits out a moment so surreal it feels like the sport has glitched. Fabian Canelara, three-time Robe King, is on the rivet, driving a chase group 40 seconds behind the leaders when the stones betray him. A thin strip of mud on the crown of the pave. One slip and the Swiss superstar is suddenly sliding across the line of riders behind him. But right behind him is Peter Sagin. He actually bunny hops over Canelara’s body and bike, lands it perfectly, rides the soft gutter to steady himself, then pops back onto the cobblestones, still in full chase. It’s the sort of save you twice to believe. The day a split-second hop turned a guaranteed pileup into another entry in Cycling’s gallery of physics defying one in a trillion escapes. Tour to France 2025. You can’t win the tour on day one, but you can absolutely lose it. Stage one is always a pressure cooker. GC favorites hiding near the front just to stay upright. Sprinters fighting for every inch. narrow roads at 70 km/h where one mistake can wipe out a season in seconds. That was the scene as the pelatin tore into Le bars knocking, shoulders brushing just 5 km from the line. Then it blows up. Up front, Maven Vanderberg clips bars, loses balance, and crashes right across the racing line. Locked on his wheel, Kaden Groves. No space, no warning. He grabs a fistful of front bike and the rear wheel leaps clean off the tarmac. He slithers past the first crash only for another rider to slide out directly in front of him. Groves reacts again, yanks the bars, never uncips, never stops pedaling. It was bold. It was insane. But most importantly, it was the kind of move that belongs in a stunt reel. Yet somehow becomes another one in a trillion escape. You have to replay to believe. But if you think threading two wrecks on a flat tarmac is intense, the next one takes that heartbeat spike and dials it up to survival mode. Santa Barbara Road Race 2017. Picture this. A final sprint on a narrow bridge outside Santa Barbara. 60 riders fighting for scraps of points, bars knocking, wheels overlapping, and beneath them, a 30ft drop into a ravine. One mistake here isn’t just road rash, it’s free fall. And that’s exactly what happens. A touch of wheels at the front sends riders sliding sideways. Midpack erupts. Bikes cartwheel across the lane. And Mike Alec, still driving for minor placings, suddenly has nowhere to go. He slams onto the rail, rolls onto his back, his bike keeps going, and disappears off the edge. For a split second, it looks like he’s gone with it. But somehow he survives. It’s a harsh reminder that in cycling, sometimes the scariest save isn’t about balance, it’s about survival. But not every miracle save happens mid-sprint. Sometimes it’s the mountain heat that tries to take you out. Tour to France 2003. Stage nine. Yaba Blocki third overall. Looking like a real threat for the yellow. The heat is so brutal. The tarmac melting. Then disaster struck. His tire slipped on the molten asphalt. The bike skidded. Blocky went down hard. Bones snapping the second he hit the ground. Right behind him, Lance Armstrong. Full speed. No way to stop. Everyone thought he was finished, too. But instead, he launches straight off the road, cuts across a farmer’s field, and bounces back onto the tarmac like nothing happened. One moment, two fates. The kind of scene you can’t script, which is exactly why you should subscribe to Pedal Pulse, cuz we dig up every insane twist this sport throws at us. Tour to France 2022. The Aldues descent is the kind of road that separates daredevils from the rest of the pelin. Blind corners, patchy tarmac, nothing but gravity pushing you faster. Tom Pitcock didn’t just ride it, he hunted it. He drops in low, eyes locked, refusing to touch the brakes longer than a blink. Every hairpin looks one twitch away from sending him over the edge. The back wheels skipping, the bike drift wide, tires screeching across the paint. But each time the bike looks like it’s off the line, he’s already correcting, leaning deeper, sliding the rear tire like a rally car, carving the apex as if he owns the mountain. It’s dangerous. It’s mesmerizing. A descent that looks less like road racing and more like a highlight reel of near and misses strung together, except every single one sticks. By the time he hits the valley floor, you’re still holding your breath. Not because he won the stage, but because he somehow survived what felt like 10 crashes waiting to happen.