There was this old knife-sharpening tool in my great-grandmother's backyard shed. It was this big metal wheel with a handle you pumped, and it spun around and around. I liked to spin it real fast and let my fingertip touch the spinning surface. I smashed my fingertip in that thing three or four times in my childhood. D:

Also at my great-grandma's. I was in her backyard this one time, bored out of my skull, looking for something to do. A thick, solid plank of wood and a pile of bricks were the answer. I assembled a seesaw, placed half a brick on one end of the plank, and jumped on the other end to fling the brick high into the air. When the first one landed about eight inches to my right, I ran forwards as soon as I landed to avoid the thing. This went well for a few more. Then I ran forwards, turned around, and saw no falling brick. I looked up. The sun blinded me; I looked down and away from it. Half a brick cracked in the dome.