We live in a fairly rural area where everyone's lot is at least .50 acres or more. However, the street we live on is apparently the Autobahn the way people drive on it. We also live on a fairly large curve in the street, so it's been a (somewhat) secret fear of mine that someone was going to drive their car into my front yard and into Ainsley's bedroom.
Crazy, right?
Well, last night it nearly happened.
Some drunk and helmet-less motorcyclist crashed into my neighbor's rock and stone mailbox, pulverizing it. The impact then flipped him into my front yard.
I was sitting in my office when it happened, so I heard the impact and the sound of metal scraping asphalt. Derek and I went to check it out and found him lying in the bar ditch. We called 911 and tried to cover him with blankets to keep him warm.
He was so drunk that he insisted on getting up. We certainly didn't help him get up, but I wasn't about to try to stop him, either. He walked around (with a gaping and profusely-bleeding head wound) looking at his bike until EMS and the cops showed up.
Derek and I were asked to make a statement for the cops, which we did.
I really do hope he's OK, but I also hope he's learned a really big lesson about driving drunk and wearing a helmet.
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