I had a bike when I was younger, of course. At some point I flipped it over a bush and slammed into a creosote coated telephone pole. I wound up with massive, creosote splinters buried in my back and arms.

Then I saw people racing bikes on TV, and noticed how they would lean the bike in corners. So naturally I leaned my bike way over, and it worked great. Until I hit gravel. I wound up with a rock trapped between my braces and my teeth.

In 5th grade I recieved a go-cart.

Evil Kenevil style stunt antics ensued. I did some massive jump I had no business trying, and I actually landed it. The issue was that on impact, my face slammed into my hands that were on the steering wheel. My teeth cut my hand down to the bone and it bled forever.

I also got a leather bull whip for Christmas one year, and spent all day everyday for months trying to swing from tree limbs like Indiana Jones. The whip broke, and I fell and cracked the back of my head open on a rock.