How my Father Broke His Leg- The Second Time

When I was in the fourth grade, my parents went into a partnership on a gas station. We went into it with some friends we had made, and I remember many hours spent at the gas station, or at our friend's house playing with their children.

Part of the business was the rental of a trailer that was behind the gas station. My father was working one night trying to get the trailer fixed up for the next tenant. He needed to do some work underneath the trailer, so he had the trailer propped up on a jack, and he was crouched underneath to do the work.

A storm blew up. It had been threatening to hit all day, and when it did hit, it was a big one. The winds were fierce, and we were in an open area without a lot of homes or other trees to shelter things. My father was working quickly, and decided to stick it out and finish rather than wait for another day.

The winds became so strong, that they hit the trailer hard enough to rock it, and the jack slipped out from underneath. My father fell back as the trailer fell on him, and the leg that was supporting his weight snapped. One of the beams underneath the trailer slammed into his other knee, causing serious bruising. If it weren't for a single cinder block still holding the trailer up, he would have been crushed.

I remember we stayed the night at our friend's house- something that should have been the best thing ever, but was more worry and fear than fun. It was another day or two before my father came home. I was so excited the day I came home from school and found Dad there on the couch- all cast and crutches. I was so glad that he was going to be alright.

We weren't in the business much longer. It was one of those investments that seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn't aware of what happened beyond that other than my Dad got better, and we moved away not long after that. I think about it sometimes, and remain very grateful for that one cinder block that saved his life.