One helluva night…

Last night, while watching one of my favorite shows (“Breaking Bad”), my husband and I heard a loud crash. (Loud is an understatement–it sounded like an airplane crashed into our yard.) We run outside and once we see what happened, I run back inside to call 911, and he goes to help. There was a car accident right outside our house. A pick-up truck was leaving our subdivision and, apparently, didn’t stop before pulling on to a main street. It was struck by a BMW. The red truck FLIPPED and landed on it’s back. The driver was able to remove himself from the overturned vehicle, but suffered from a compound fracture in his leg. What a fiasco! I was so scared for the people involved in the crash it took three tries to correctly dial three numbers. (Incidentally, my husband were not alone in trying to help. Several other people were around, calling 911 and checking to see if everyone was okay.) There were only two drivers involved, and, luckily, no serious injuries. (Besides the broken leg, that is!)

The car accident really puts things into perspective, though.


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