When I turned 21, my grandfather told me a story about his older brother that I had never heard. My great-uncle was a big boozer for most of his life. He passed at 92 and by then had switched from liquor to beer and wine; he also cut down to one pack of cigarettes a day instead of two after he had half a lung removed.
Pap and my uncle grew up on a farm in the 30s and 40s. Mostly the family ran the farm by themselves, but from time to time they would hire drifters on as farm-hands. In 1950, my uncle and one of the farmhands were out drinking and they were driving back to the farm in my uncle's convertible. My uncle was the one driving and he misjudged a turn that had a steep bank on the right side. He ran the car up the embankment, which was steep enough to flip it. My uncle was throw from the car, but the farmhand he was drinking with was only halfway out of the car when it landed. Pap said he was severed clean into two pieces.
Because the farmhand was just a drifter without any family to make much fuss and because the Korean War had just started, my uncle was able to enlist and avoid any criminal charges. He was in Korea until the end of the war.
That was the only time I've ever heard that story told and although I would never be someone who has more than a few drinks before getting behind the wheel, it's something that definitely sticks in my mind. And it's a story I'll tell my own kids when they get their license.