Heartstopping moment mother and child are trapped in a sinking car after they veer off road and are plunged into a roadside ditch
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The Guardian
14 hours ago
- The Guardian
Experience: I rescued my children from a burning car
One morning in 2018, my husband Reuben told me about a nightmare he'd had the previous night. He'd been driving over the Hewitt Avenue Trestle, a bridge near our house in Everett, Washington in the US, crashed through the barriers into the estuary below, and had to decide which of our two children to save. Two weeks later, I was getting Talia, then three, and Weston, 10 months, dressed, fed and out of the door to take them to preschool on my way to work. It was a route we'd taken a hundred times before. I was chatting to Reuben on speakerphone with both children in the back, when I smelled something odd, like plastic melting. I mentioned it to Reuben, but neither of us thought anything of it. There are industrial buildings nearby, so I assumed it was coming from one of them. A minute later, and no longer on the phone, I drove on to the bridge my husband had dreamed about, which was busy with rush-hour traffic. That's when I saw the word 'STOP' flash across my dashboard. Before I even had the chance to register it, I saw smoke rising from the bonnet of the car. I knew I needed to pull over, but the bridge, which is 2.5 miles long, didn't have a hard shoulder. I decided it was safest to get across it and then stop the car. Gripping the steering wheel, I put my foot down, but within seconds the smoke was so thick I could no longer see the road ahead. With cars flying past me, I managed to pull over to the side of the road. At this point, I was really distressed. I called the American Automobile Association (AAA), but, as if my luck wasn't bad enough, my membership had expired. As I was talking to the operator, I saw flames through the windshield – the bonnet was on fire. Terrified, and certain the car was about to explode, I yelled that my car was on fire. Acting on pure instinct, I jumped out, opened the door behind me, and unclipped Weston's car seat. I could hear the woman from the AAA shouting at me to call 911 as cars and lorries thundered past, just inches away. For a split second I froze. Was it safe to put Weston down on the road while I grabbed Talia? Could I run to the end of the bridge with them both in my arms? Just then, as I was almost overwhelmed with fear, an arm appeared. I looked up into the face of a man who said, 'It's OK, mama', took Weston from my hands and went to his car, which was just behind me. I dashed round to Talia's door, opening it to see flames inside, and spreading fast. She looked at me in terror and screamed, 'Mummy!' Within a second, I had her in my arms, running back to the man's car. As we zoomed off, I looked over my shoulder and saw flames shooting into the sky. Talia was sobbing into my chest. Unable to think clearly, I didn't call 911 or Reuben, I just asked for us to be dropped at a nearby car dealership. I thanked my heroic rescuer and hugged him goodbye, only later realising that I didn't even get his name. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Reuben's work was about 50 miles away, so I called a friend nearby, who immediately came to get us. He's a funny guy, and, as I fell into his arms, weeping, he quipped: 'Sorry I'm late. There was some big fire on the road.' I called Reuben on the way to my parents' house. He was devastated, repeatedly apologising for not knowing the smell was something serious. I tried to reassure him: I hadn't known, either. Seeing the burnt-out car arrive later that day before it was scrapped was awful. I felt sick at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn't got the children out when I did. While Weston appeared unaffected throughout, and Talia was back to her happy self within hours, I struggled. I had awful dreams where I endlessly relived it. When driving our new car, I'd obsessively open the windows at the slightest smell, convinced it was on fire. A session of EMDR [eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing] therapy helped a lot. I was even able to drive across the Trestle and stay calm. We never found out what caused the fire. Thankfully, the children have no memory of that day now. And when they moan that Mummy doesn't do this or that, I remind them that I entered a burning car for them – and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. As told to Kate Graham Do you have an experience to share? Email experience@
BBC News
15 hours ago
- BBC News
Driver dies in collision with tanker in Sutton-on-the-Forest
A driver has died after his car collided with a Yorkshire Police said a white DAF tanker goods vehicle collided with a grey Vauxhall Mokka on York Road, at Sutton-on-the-Forest, near York, at about 11:00 BST on Vauxhall driver, a 60-year-old man, was pronounced dead at the scene. Police said his family had been informed and were being said the road was closed for several hours to allow investigation work and enable the vehicles to be recovered. A police spokesperson has urged anyone who witnessed either vehicle prior to the collision or who has any relevant dashcam footage to get in touch. Listen to highlights from North Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, catch up with the latest episode of Look North.
The Guardian
21 hours ago
- The Guardian
Experience: I rescued my children from a burning car
One morning in 2018, my husband Reuben told me about a nightmare he'd had the previous night. He'd been driving over the Hewitt Avenue Trestle, a bridge near our house in Everett, Washington in the US, crashed through the barriers into the estuary below, and had to decide which of our two children to save. Two weeks later, I was getting Talia, then three, and Weston, 10 months, dressed, fed and out of the door to take them to preschool on my way to work. It was a route we'd taken a hundred times before. I was chatting to Reuben on speakerphone with both children in the back, when I smelled something odd, like plastic melting. I mentioned it to Reuben, but neither of us thought anything of it. There are industrial buildings nearby, so I assumed it was coming from one of them. A minute later, and no longer on the phone, I drove on to the bridge my husband had dreamed about, which was busy with rush-hour traffic. That's when I saw the word 'STOP' flash across my dashboard. Before I even had the chance to register it, I saw smoke rising from the bonnet of the car. I knew I needed to pull over, but the bridge, which is 2.5 miles long, didn't have a hard shoulder. I decided it was safest to get across it and then stop the car. Gripping the steering wheel, I put my foot down, but within seconds the smoke was so thick I could no longer see the road ahead. With cars flying past me, I managed to pull over to the side of the road. At this point, I was really distressed. I called the American Automobile Association (AAA), but, as if my luck wasn't bad enough, my membership had expired. As I was talking to the operator, I saw flames through the windshield – the bonnet was on fire. Terrified, and certain the car was about to explode, I yelled that my car was on fire. Acting on pure instinct, I jumped out, opened the door behind me, and unclipped Weston's car seat. I could hear the woman from the AAA shouting at me to call 911 as cars and lorries thundered past, just inches away. For a split second I froze. Was it safe to put Weston down on the road while I grabbed Talia? Could I run to the end of the bridge with them both in my arms? Just then, as I was almost overwhelmed with fear, an arm appeared. I looked up into the face of a man who said, 'It's OK, mama', took Weston from my hands and went to his car, which was just behind me. I dashed round to Talia's door, opening it to see flames inside, and spreading fast. She looked at me in terror and screamed, 'Mummy!' Within a second, I had her in my arms, running back to the man's car. As we zoomed off, I looked over my shoulder and saw flames shooting into the sky. Talia was sobbing into my chest. Unable to think clearly, I didn't call 911 or Reuben, I just asked for us to be dropped at a nearby car dealership. I thanked my heroic rescuer and hugged him goodbye, only later realising that I didn't even get his name. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Reuben's work was about 50 miles away, so I called a friend nearby, who immediately came to get us. He's a funny guy, and, as I fell into his arms, weeping, he quipped: 'Sorry I'm late. There was some big fire on the road.' I called Reuben on the way to my parents' house. He was devastated, repeatedly apologising for not knowing the smell was something serious. I tried to reassure him: I hadn't known, either. Seeing the burnt-out car arrive later that day before it was scrapped was awful. I felt sick at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn't got the children out when I did. While Weston appeared unaffected throughout, and Talia was back to her happy self within hours, I struggled. I had awful dreams where I endlessly relived it. When driving our new car, I'd obsessively open the windows at the slightest smell, convinced it was on fire. A session of EMDR [eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing] therapy helped a lot. I was even able to drive across the Trestle and stay calm. We never found out what caused the fire. Thankfully, the children have no memory of that day now. And when they moan that Mummy doesn't do this or that, I remind them that I entered a burning car for them – and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. As told to Kate Graham Do you have an experience to share? Email experience@
