When I drove my 16-year old son for his driving test, I was so agitated that when I turned left onto a main thoroughfare, I stopped paying attention. An oncoming car grazed the right side of ours. My fault. After the usual negociations and exchanges, we proceded to the police barracks for the test.
My son had to climb out the driver’s side of my car, his passenger door being jammed shut. He passed the test on the first try and was forevermore a very conservative driver.
I have never had anything other than two small fender benders over the course of 50 years of driving. Once, my car skidded on a patch of black ice while moving very slowly, slid off the road, hit a tree and turned turtle. I escaped w. a bruise from the seat belt and an abraision on my cornea from the air bag. The car was upside down (with me hanging from the floor in my seat belt) so the local rescue squad did have to extricate me. And the car was not worth repairing.
My dad taught us how to drive and scared the shit out of us. He always started by saying, “Driving an automobile is like holding a loaded gun.” My sister (also a super-cautious driver) and I still joke about it. She never has accidents and is even more prudent than I.