I grew up just outside Boston, Rode into the city many times, starting when I was about 12. Raced out of Cambridge in my twenties. In my racing/bike shop days, the common expression was "close only counts n horse shoes and hand grenades. We used to joke about maybe wearing a durable metal ring on our left hand to scrape the paint of right-hookers.
My only right-hook with contact came when a USPS Jeep pulled a right turn from the left lane. We were the only vehicles on the road. 7am outside Santa Cruz 40 years ago. I was trying to turn tighter than the jeep; of course impossible since I didn't do the lean to initiate the turn. So at the apex, the Jeep's tire was contacting my fork and my elbow was in the driver's face (his window was down). The tire contact gave me the shove I needed and I finished the turn upright. We were both fully awake afterwards.
Ben