My uncle Wade knows about rolling things all too well. I know I wrote this story before, but I forgot important details and events because I was tired, and I oversimplified it to the point where the story got boring compared to the whole thing. 

Not even a decade ago, Wade was hauling a semi truck full of milk in a Nebraska blizzard. As he drove around a bend, he skidded on black ice and rolled seven times in the ditch. When he finally stopped, Wade's truck was resting on the driver's side, and the passenger-side door was shoved somewhat into the trailer full of milk. The windshield was shattered and resting somewhat on Wade's lap. When Wade tried to push open the passenger-side door, he couldn't, but he knew it was the only way out. He remembered he kept a tire iron under the passenger-side seat, and reached down in the dark to find it. Miraculously, it was pretty close to where Wade had remembered keeping it, and he used it to smash through the passenger-side window. Gallons and gallons of milk came rushing in, and if Wade didn't have a firm hold around the passenger-side window frame, he would've drowned. 

He pulled himself outside, and face-planted into the waist-deep snow, completely soaked in milk and bleeding profusely from several places. Wade remembered driving by a house just before he crashed, so he trudged a mile or so the way he came, praying to God his sense of direction and memory were correct. He was shivering severely, and struggling to walk through the snow and against the 50 mile per hour winds. But he held onto the hope that there was a house nearby, and that hope grew greater when he saw nearby lights just ahead. 

When he reached the front porch, Wade pounded on the door and screamed for help. An old lady armed with a shotgun and surrounded by several large dogs answered, and when she saw Wade, she immediately dropped her weapon, commanded the dogs back to wherever they came from, and pulled Wade in by his coat. He was shivering so hard he couldn't speak or even walk any further. So, with the hospital on the line, the lady helped Wade into some warm fresh clothes, made him some tea, and had him sit in front of the fireplace wrapped in almost every blanket she could find. An hour and a half later, the ambulance finally arrived. It was too late to give Wade any stitches, but the ambulance still took him away and treated him for hypothermia and other injuries he suffered.

Wade was able to get the lady's name and address, which he used to send her a letter with a $100 gift card and the clothes she gave him. In the letter, he expressed how thankful he was to be alive, and how he couldn't repay her for her help. He even wrote down his number for her to call anytime. A couple weeks later, the lady called him to ask how he was doing and to talk. It turns out, the lady had lost her son in a car wreck a few years before, and Wade reminded her of him. She thanked Wade for helping her get a little more closure, and said that he made it possible for her to help her son one last time. Wade kept a relatively close relationship over the phone with the lady until she passed away a few years later.