Grew up riding outside on the running board of dad’s car (<15mph) and riding in the back of a pickup truck.
And we all used the same ladle when drinking out of the water bucket on a hot day.
Still alive.
We just weren’t morons in those days, unlike this generation who has to be told not to iron clothes while wearing them.
Rode all around the town on the back of a trash truck, holding on to a grab-bar.
Trash cans were steel and some contain a variety of potentially dangerous objects and chemicals - thrown out because they were dangerous, out of sight and out of mind, and then my problem according to modern panic-topia.
But I was not scared nor did I worry.
Because I was alive and free.