Close calls, involving my buddy,

Matt, trying to kill me, can provide a couple stories. His usual method has been to make my death/injury look accidental, on a 4WD trail. His most common attempt invloves driving his heavy, old Bronco up an impossible incline until it slows down, dies, then gradually gains momentum going backward, which he has done WAY too many times. Once, as we were gaining speed going backward, he started it, slammed it in reverse, cranked the wheel, then jammed it in Drive and headed down the mountain into a large pine tree that finally stopped us, as a forearm sized branch broke into a sharpened spear as it broke the window and narrowly missed my throat. Another time, as we rapidly gained speed, this time going backwards on a winding icy high mountain trail, I saw we were headed for a turn with a mountainside to the left and a cliff to the right, and we were going to the right. Seeing no reason for both of us to die, I bailed out and rolled in the snow. As I looked up, I saw the Bronc catch the only good sized boulder on the curve, lean precariously on 2 wheels, then finally stop. Can still see Matt's face, the color of snow and his eyes the size of tennis balls. Another time we were spending the night in the Bronc, (don't ask) when I decided to get a drink of water in the middle of the night, and found my water bottle frozen solid. He decided to warm things up with a catalytic propane heater, and I listened as the gas hissed and the sparking mechanism failed to spark. As it became too gassy to breath, the starter finally sparked. WHOMP!. Huge fireball, that singed my hair and started the groceries and my pillow, as well as other combustibles, on fire. He would have claimed that as an accident, too. I tried to partially get even by flipping our boat, on a remote Canadian lake, but that was an ACCIDENT, although he won't admit it.