They would have flint flywheels, and would emit a shower of sparks.
Cut you to ribbons, and set things on fire -FUN.
Also, I had a fully-operational steam engine that took Calcium Carbide rocks (acetylene source).
We used to set up ramps on the road in our estate while it was still being built, using piles of sand and planks left behind by the builders. Then, we'd get some airtime on our BMXs. I still have a scar on my chin today from going over the handlebars.
Back garden fires were a regular occurrence as well. We'd be unsupervised, playing around with flaming sticks, or throwing things into the fire, such as aerosol cans.
None of this seemed to bother my parents.
Then, when my own son was about eleven, I taught him how to breathe fire. It was heavily supervised by me, and we practised with water for an hour until he had the technique down, and I let him have a go with paraffin. He did it perfectly. I recorded it.
I showed the video to my dad, and he was extremely angry that I had taught my son this, seemingly forgetting all the wild things he used to let us get away with when we were children.
I suppose my point is that this is not really a generational thing, but a societal one. Regardless of your generation, in modern society, all adults have a heightened perception of risks, real or imagined.
People even have the nerve to criticize those who have an apatite for risk as "selfish," as though they have a moral obligation to not making other people sad or upset by their possible injury or death. Absolute madness.