Two at intersections, and one deer.
1985-ish. Had already been riding bikes for about 13 or 14 years, so I was pretty cognizant of needing to be vigilant going through intersections, amongst everything else.
Night time in a big city, I'm going slightly under the limit on a one way street, crossing another one way street intersection. Green light for me was about exactly halfway through it's full on cycle, so I wasn't mega concerned about a car jumping the light, or gassing it to make it through in time, on the street crossing mine.
Force of habit I did roll off throttle a smidge and give a token glance left to pay lip service to my paranoia about people ignoring or missing red lights.
*WHOOSH*!!!! A car blows past me so fast, literally micro inches from my rear tire, I have zero time to think, or do, or so much as shriek in my helmet. I pull over on the other side of the intersection, and sit there shaking half to death.
Other drivers in cars behind me, pull to screeching halts and all shout: OMG! are you ok? Ambulance? Are you alive? etc., etc. lol. They were so convinced that I had been hit, that it still wasn't registering that I hadn't actually been.
The car that went through the red light at 90 mph or whatever, that I neglected to observe despite my best intentions?
It was going down the one way street, the wrong
way, with no freaking lights on!
1989-ish. This one is my biggest WTF of my own behaviour.
Sitting at a red light, waiting to proceed through. Look up, see green, and go.
Not only didn't I give a quick left-right to make sure it was ok, my light was actually still red!!!
Halfway though the intersection, it dawns on me that I had completely zoned out, and had reflexively acted on the green, but it was the light in the next block! Talk about a thousand yard stare or whatever, sheesh.
That made me really buckle down and try to shake off being complacent and cocky in general with my supposed riding prowess.
Bimbling slowly (roughly 50 mph) along in the boonies, on a hot, sunny, clear august day, zero highway traffic for hours in any direction, nearing the end of a successful couple week tour into the wilds with many, many animal encounters.
Flash of tan fur to my left, and the absolute foreknowledge that I *am* going to be hit, I flinch, shut my eyes, heave forward on my right hand grip. I can even picture where on the bike, and what parts are going to be needing replacement, starting with the front fender.
The buck not only didn't hit the front of the bike, nor the middle, nor me, or even the back of my bike! I was on an overloaded, piled high with camping gear F800ST, so it presented a fairly large profile. :I'm not fat, I'm just big boned!:
My buddy riding his Super Tenere directly behind me, said he thought I was going to broadside the deer, and was all bugeyed that somehow this thing arced up and over me, instead of me hitting it.
And he swears to this day that one of it's magnificent and vewy vewy pointy antler tines had to have grazed my rear tail pack, as it's head went completely to it's left, in midair. Either that, or it lunged at me trying to gore me as it flew past