I was 19 and I had a motorcycle.....

Yes a good way for a trip to the morgue. I had a Honda 175 Scrambler, high pipes so you could ride street or trail. I was on the Atlanta Braves ground crew. I was in downtown Atlanta, headed to Atlanta Stadium, late one afternoon. I was going through an intersection.
A car coming towards me had his turn signal on, he was turning left. But the sun was in his eyes and he didn't see me. So he was going to turn in front of me! 19 year old stupid ass, I gave it the gas I thought I would beat him to the intersection. And I almost did.
His left front bumper hit my exhaust pipe on my left side. Hit about 10 inches from my ass. What is that, 1/millionth of a second less and it would have hit me in the hip.

My bike was knocked over on the right side, and onto the sidewalk. I was doing about 40 mph, and should have had all the skin sanded off of my right leg. But as the bike went over, I climbed on top of the left side, like a monkey I rode on top of that bike for 100 feet until my front wheel smashed into a sign in the sidewalk and the bike stopped. I got up and walked away, not a scratch on me.

A few years ago, I was driving on a twisty mountain road in North Carolina. I was going around a hairpin curve, suddenly from the other direction a guy came at me, he was half way across the yellow line. My girlfriend and I still remember, his eyes were as big as saucers, he knew he screwed up.
I had only my left hand on the wheel. I flipped my hand to the right about 2 inches, Thank God there was a shoulder there, about 4 feet wide, and I got 4 feet over, missed this errant driver by about 3 inches. Both vehicles doing 45 that would have been a bad wreck. I flipped my hand to the right, then flipped right back, because the shoulder ran out, I was on the shoulder for about 30 feet.

I Mexico one time, my buddy and I ran a Mexican Army roadblock, way out in the countryside at night. A Mexican Lieutenant chased us down in an unmarked Mustang, passed us and braked to a stop, blocking the road. Little Jose jumped out of the passenger seat and aimed his M16 right at George, who was driving.
And the Lieutenant, sitting in the drivers seat about 10 feet away, aimed his 1911 Colt right at my head. He was right in our headlights, well lit up. Those Mexican cops just love the 1911 Colt. He racked the slide and I was looking right down the barrel. That hole looked bigger than 45 hundredths of an inch, it looked about 4 inches wide.