I almost had it when Dad flung a catalytic converter. I leapt aside, cutting my hand on the serrated edge of a punctured tank. I wiped the blood on my jeans and shouted, " Don't throw them here! I'm here" !
Of course, it has its imperfections, all that flailing flurry of action in the foreground, the mysteriously floating iron fetters, the flung limb that may or may not be detached from its torso.
But for friends who are more far flung, you might be more apt to send a shout out, rather than making the effort to get together to bump fists or fins.