When I was 12 my dad had a work friend of his and family up to our cabin. They had a son about my age who brought a Honda 50CC minibike. (I was insanely jealous because my parents were the typical anti-motorcycle parents so I'd never get to own something like that in a million years.)
Anyhow, he took me for some rides up and down our dirt driveway and down the road a ways. Then he asked me if I wanted to try it. Fuck yeah!
I then road it up and down the driveway with him on the back so he could be sure that I had a clue. I did flawlessly.
Then came the moment of truth, riding it solo. Everyone was standing right there, all four parents and the other kid. Boy, did I fuck up. It had an "automatic" transmission of some sort so it was twist-n-go. Anyhow, when it started moving I tried braking. Unfortunately, I was used to the brakes on my bicycle and rolling my right hand back when I braked so the harder I tried to brake the more throttle I gave it. The throttle had more oomph than the brakes so the harder I tried to brake, the faster I went. About 15 feet in front of me there was about a two and a half foot gap between a station wagon and a tool shed. Somehow, scared shitless, I shot that gap and then went flying off into the bushes where I face planted. Luckily I didn't hurt the other kid's minibike.
Needless to say, that was the end of my first moto experience.
(I'm sure glad YouTube wasn't around back then.