When I was just a skinny lad, never knew no good from bad..
I'd just passed my driving test age 17 and took my dad's Volvo out for the first time with one of my friends sat in the passenger seat eating Opal Fruits, I drove from the top of Stannington (where we lived) around Dam Flask and through Hillsborough.. heading towards Hillsborough corner.
There is a pub called the Shakespeare.. Some pissed dude staggared out of the door straight in front of my car and i hit him full on at 30mph, he flew over the car and landed in a heap in the road, i got out and his equally intoxicated wife started ragging me around shouting "you've killed my f**king husband" witnesses came out of the pub saying he was pissed as a fart, cops never arrived (this is south yorkshire police farce after all) so i went to Hammerton Rd police station to explain what happened, got arrested, called my dad and sat in the cells.. my dad took ages to arrive because i had the damn car, gave a statement under caution, got breathalysed, later they called the hospital, he was 5x over the drink drive limit, had a broken leg, a broken hip and a broken wrist but and admitted all responsibility so although traumatised i was free to leave.
They put a hand rail between the pub doorway and the road soon after...