Born in '55.
Rode a riding mower as soon as I could reach the pedals. Learned to drive standard on a '63 Ford pick-up, 3 speed on the column, driving all around the property. Lived out in the country. A couple neighbor kids near my age. We'd spend a great deal of time finding crayfish and minnows at the creek which flowed through our property.
Dean, he lived across the street, was two years older than I. I was probably 9 and he was 11 at the time. One evening, he was over and we found a tub full of sand in the basement. Somehow, Dad used to anchor the Christmas tree with it, and then it would wind up in the basement. Anyway, we started throwing sand at each other. Dean grabbed a cup and was scooping and throwing sand at me with great success. I looked for something besides my hand with which to try and throw sand. All I could find was a pipe cap, the threaded cap that would screw on the end of a pipe....solid steel. I scooped and threw, scooped and threw. After the third attempt, my nine year old hand couldn't hang on to the cap, and it flew towards Dean's head. I yelled, watch out, and he had just enough time to turn his face away from the approaching projectile. It hit him in the back of the head, and his scalp split open and began bleeding all over the place. At that point, I suggested he go home. I grabbed an old rag for him to hold on his head, but there was some blood trailing behind. He headed back to his house, and that was that....until my mom saw the blood. As I explained what had happened, she grabbed me and headed over to Dean's house to check on him. We found Dean's mom cleaning his scalp, not panicked, saying they were going to head to the doctor just to make sure it was ok. He needed a couple stitches, we didn't get sued, I didn't get arrested (but mom did lay quite a guilt trip on me), and for the next seven years, we joked about the experience.
Can you imagine if that happened today?