Back several weeks ago I was headed out to a trial (Highland Occasional SDT, I think, at Donald McCaig's). I had packed almost everything up in the van when I remembered I needed to put something else in there. I went up to the sliding door, and pulled the handle. Nothing happened. I mean, nothing. I locked and unlocked the doors, and pulled again. Nothing happened. I pulled. Nothing. I pulled again. NOTHING.
Hm. Maybe I should pull harder, I thought to myself.
I pulled harder. Nothing. I reared back and YANKED.
Suddenly I found myself arse over teakettle rolling backwards through the front yard, door handle in my hand. I jumped up (that's what adrenaline will do for you - normally I have to grumble and groan and use something to pull myself up) and brushed off my behind. I looked around to ascertain that nobody was around to see this. Whew.
I walked up to the van to see that I had pulled the entire door handle off of the van - and it had even warped the metal where it came out.
So what did I do? I called my Mom. "Mom, you're not going to believe this. I just pulled the door handle off of the Van!" Somehow she believed it. "How did you manage that?", she asked.
Uh, I'm an idiot? I said, "I have no idea. I really didn't even pull it that hard."