Turns out our elderly neighbor had, um, hit the gas instead of the break, and then, um, floored it just in case. The steps crumbled, the glass storm door was shattered, and the railing bent in two. Of course I kept my cool and watched it all like a champ; it was a good break from my day-long crying session. Mom on the other hand was a little more worried for me, but of course then Dad came home laughing and put us all at ease.
Finally the truck was towed, order was restored, and I could return to my days work of crying and fussing.
The truck climbing the steps.
Me and mom at the window with our neighbors the Purdy's.
Close up of the truck.
The view from my window spot.
