OTOH “Struck and killed by a flying porta-potty” has to get some points for originality. 
I’m reminded of the corny John Wayne movie Green Berets wherein various facilities around the base camp were named in honor of the recently KIA. One guy, Sgt. Provo, wanted the latrines named after him were he to be killed: “Provo’s privvy. It just sings, don’t it?” was his line.
Or you could be killed by the toilet seat from the deorbiting Mir space station.
Please tell me you Married this Woman
Apparently the original plan was to bomb Kenya, Tanzania, and Mozambique (that three-locations-at-once strategy that has been used in other terrorist attacks). However, there was a snafu of some sort (related to getting the bomb materials into the country, or something like that - it’s been a long time so I forget the specifics). So at the last minute, they did only two bombings, not three.
I was in the US Embassy in Mozambique on August 7, 1998, dealing with paperwork related to my newborn son’s social security number.
I may have told this one before: I was at an intersection of a fast street waiting to turn left. This was on my good old CB750. The light turned green and there was a big dump truck coming my way. He was far enough away that I thought about going for it but held back. After he passed, I went to turn and spun out in a big oil spot, right where he would have surely liquified me.
Sliding port-a-potty. They don’t seem to bounce. Actually I’m not sure they slide also. More just sat there, due to friction with the road no doubt.
The driver of the truck took a little bit to figure out he lost his load (I hope the load was not in them) and pull over to call 911 I hope.
Not exactly a near miss, but after college I dated a woman for a year before we mutually broke it off. Six months later while driving with her new boyfriend to meet her folks for Christmas she had a car accident where she took a turn too fast, lost control and slammed into a tree and both of them died.
It was so far in the future a million things could have oh so slightly changed and prevented that outcome, but I always mobidly stop and think if we had actually stayed together like I wanted too, I would have been killed too that night
Well there was that time I was stabbed next to my heart. I posted about the experience 12 years ago.
I know it’s inappropriate, but this phrase in the context of the post made me bust out laughing. 
I graduated but I’m still in sixth-grade apparently.
See this post & the next few addressing male humor and linking to yet more male humor in a third thread.
As to trucks losing loads the saddest I ever saw was at least safe.
Back ~2010 I’m about to pull out of the Lowes near my house having bought some [whatever]. Just ahead at the driveway mouth is a raggedy small import pickup truck with a set of front loading washer / dryers sitting in the bed. I notice the washer is facing back at me with its giant staring eye. And is sitting half on the tailgate, half on the bed. Without an obvious rope or strap across it. I decide not to follow too closely.
The truck sees its opening in traffic, gooses it down the driveway, across the gutter, and out into the street which is IIRC 35 mph speed limit with 1 lane each way with a marked bi-directional median. He starts to turn left and the truck and tailgate are still bouncing out of phase from the gutter crossing. At which point the washer is nerfed off the tailgate, lands face down on the asphalt and slides about 10 feet into the median. He could not have been doing much over 10mph, maaybe 15.
I pull out & stop directly behind the fallen washer to prevent folks from hitting it and give the guy a protected space to solve his new problem. He gets out of the truck and he’s near crying. He’s clearly a handyman / construction worker, a recent immigrant, and he just destroyed a month’s pay. The boss will not be amused.
I helped him load the mangled washer into his truck & wished him well. That was not damage that was gonna buff out. The washer would probably still function as-is, but it’d need a whole new front face and a new door to look anything other than wrecked. I wouldn’t be surprised if the circuit board behind the controls was damaged too. At which point the machine is a total write-off.
I always wondered how the rest of his day or week went. Poor bastard.
I wonder what Foreign for “You should have made two trips” is?
When this happens, we say the joke wrote itself.
This is pretty ignominious, but here goes.
During my hard drug using days, there were places I could drive that were “open air” drug markets, in that there were people who would stand around some corner and sell you “rocks” if you drove up to them with your window down.
Usually, they’d nod, and I’d say something like
“You got forty?” meaning forty dollars. I’d hold two twenty dollar bills in my hand, they’d take them as they handed me what was in their hand.
As the night progressed, the place I’d usually go would dry up, and if I wanted more I’d have to drive even further into the ghetto, to an even more sketchy park.
So, one night, I’m already tweaked and at that park. It’s dark, and a guy walks up to me. I ask for my forty, he asks for money and says he has to go to a guy over by the basketball hoops to get for me.
My addled mind decides to trust him, so I hand him my two bills and he walks away.
A minute later he comes back angrily telling me he’s going to kick my ass.
Apparently, although I had asked him for “forty”, the two bills I handed him were one dollar bills, not twenties. I had only given him two bucks.
“It was a mistake” I yelled. And it was. I had reached into the wrong pocket (I had no idea I was even carrying two loose dollars), as I had just come from the ATM.
He ended up making me follow him into a house. Eventually, he gave me a handful, but somebody asked me to share. After that, I hightailed it out of the house and went to my car. I recall a cop car slowly driving down the street as I left the home.
Now, I never saw any weapons, and other than being told that I better actually have $40 or I was going to have my ass kicked, I don’t think I was in any danger.
But that was the stupidest, most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.
One morning last summer, I was walking one of the dogs down the sidewalk heading home. I suddenly heard a huge CRASH sound. I then saw a car careen through the air, land on the sidewalk and crash into the ditch. This was the same sidewalk I was walking on just 20 feet ahead of me! I called 911 as a sobbing girl climbed through the window. She said she was late to work and had looked down at the clock, causing her to run the stop sign at a 4-way stop intersection. A pickup truck hit her. I have a feeling she was on her cell phone. I stayed with her until the police came. As I was walking home, it suddenly occurred to me that if the dog hadn’t stopped however many times he stopped to pee or sniff, the dog and I would have been killed on the spot.
Land sakes - that story you wrote about the drug deal made my eyes bulge out! I get solicited by dealers on a regular basis although I never have bought a street drug.
Eg last week, I walked out of the city library with a stack in my hand. A guy called out to me with a smile and offered to sell me some new drug. Another time I was walking with my clients with Downs as they picked up trash across from an urban bus station, some guy walked up to me and I held out my spare bag so he could drop his bag in there. He said “oh no, I wanted to sell you this ecstasy.”
Yet another time when I was 18, I was walking home from this bus station when this random guy “do you where they sell Bud around here?” I naively chirped “Yes they sell 12 packs of it there at the Walmart.”
I tell you Moriarty, my looks must lead ‘em astray.
I have a pretty original one that I think I’ve mentioned here before…I was nearly killed by Bill Clinton’s motorcade while riding my bike in downtown San Francisco. Being in the narrow space between the parking lane and the oversized vehicles in the driving lane, I could see that the light was green but couldn’t see that there were motorcycle cops blocking the street, so I sailed gaily into the intersection and had JUST enough time to swerve before being flattened by a flotilla of limos. The cops were, predictably, kind of dicks about it.
Not nearly as harrowing as most of the previous, but I was driving once and there was a dump truck about 50 yards ahead of me in the left lane. I heard a loud boom and one of the truck’s tires rocketed into the air and hit the concrete 20-30 feet in front of me. Bounced up again as I drove under it. No idea what malfunction caused it, but that was the closest I’ve knowingly had a final destination moment.
Another time I had gassed my car and went home without incident. I later learned that there had been a carjacking after I left where the driver was shot (survived). By the report I estimate I had missed the event by about 15-30 minutes.