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Gracious people and our Gracious Lord Jesus were there when our van went over the edge of Highway 22, Dec. 23.
It was “black ice night.” I made the mistake of tapping my brake, preparing for a curve, past the high school. Sapling trees prevented me from rolling. The seat belt held. The air bag did not even open.
Mike W. was at my window in less than one minute. “I’ll call 911,” he encouraged after he found I was unharmed.
Evidently Hillary G. heard the 911 call. She came to my door quickly. “Are you hurt?” She questioned.
“My knees are just shaky.”
The van was pointed nose downward. “I’ll pull you out,” insisted Hillary. That she did. And, she walked up the steep slippery grass ahead of me, and pulled me up to the roadside – then into her home a half of a block away.
Three other ladies joined us, and a young married man. All had stopped their vehicle to prevent wrecking. We could see 12 or 15 vehicles stopped with lights on – towards the high school. There may have been more.
Hillary’s husband – one of our fine police officers – would come in his house long enough to barely get warm. Then, out he would go, to help people, evaluate weather, traffic, etc.
Wreckers were all busy with numerous wrecks in the county. After 45-50 minutes, one appeared. He stationed his wrecker across the road and pulled our van up, out of the ravine – placing it in a driveway. It was about one more hour before our turn came with the salt truck.
The road cleared. Two of us ladies were “chicken” to drive home. So our police officer did. I’m grateful to my neighbors for help.