crash [Theme] Page 2

Sell KAMAZ after the accident, soiled wheel.

According to statistics, one pedestrian fell under the wheels of a car every 17 minutes. Poor man!

Pedestrians...
Friends, please cross the road only in the RIGHT place on ALLOWING signal of the traffic light! The street is VERY SLIPPERY and stay sometimes IMPOSSIBLE! don't rush you where you prefer (we do not ride on the pavements, and it also would be convenient)! Take care of yourself and remember that you are waiting for a home!
And the driver's wisdom: Even the worst rassklade-I (the driver), three years out! But you will not be re-born!

Affected only one organ - the brain, but it's not terrible. However, now they allow me to experience only the hospital bed...

Doc, believe me, when flying in the car off the bridge, start looking for to pant any promises of happiness!
(Doc, believe me, if one day you happened to fly from a bridge at 80 miles per hour, you will no longer have to invite happiness into the house with open arms!)

- You can accelerate faster. Then, if we crash, I die immediately.

Any come down avariyschik knows that he has another moment when these alarmists have themselves up there, they say that time has expired.

Driving on red light off white,
But it's your own business.

Accidents happen because the current drivers drive on roads yesterday to tomorrow day after tomorrow machines with speed.

You get out of the car, the one with whom you have encountered, too, you meet me there, where it collided with your car, you look at them, you shake your head. Sometimes though, to be honest, quite often - this stage communication is accompanied by a strong foul language, blaming each other (often without understanding who is really to blame), everyone makes a conclusion about the ability of another to drive a car, everyone yells that the case should go to trial. But Ralph always thought that really all these people want only one thing to say: Listen, fool, you scared me to death.

She was hit by a van with food. It's funny, given her attitude to the semis.

He drove down the slippery streets, ignoring red lights. With every second more and more pressed on the gas. He flew through the narrow alleys with such speed that seemed to be hurtling on a huge track. He did not see the road, did not see the frightened pedestrians and angry cops, the only face that so clearly imprinted in his memory... She was standing at the bus stop, turning over as flashes of memories, yellowed photographs. Cute appearance, clear oval face, and slightly depleted look. The rain mercilessly poured his gray tears. He saw how she shivered in the cold, all wet, miserable and so lonely and no one is not needed. What was she doing in this weather on the street, and than cried, and remained for him an Enigma. Was so interesting, what is hidden behind this look, and what color her eyes are. Yes, some eyes are so innocent looking? Distracted, trying to see. His feet tangled in the pedals. Gas... She took a step... the brakes squeal... Blow, and something soft under the wheels. Didn't want to believe it, but it was her... Then everything was like a dream. Blood. Scattered pictures, black handbag and she... She lay with closed eyes, as if now stand to apologize and go... hands are Cold eating felt for a pulse... Alive. Thank God, alive! He drove down the slippery streets, ignoring red lights, and she was silently dying on the back seat. "Hold on, honey, you'll survive I promise to marry" - he prayed approaching the sacred hospital. Then hours of waiting, resuscitation. Someone asked who she is to him. "Husband, if you survive". And so he got used to the idea that they had seemed really close. He was waiting already in the waiting room of the fourth hour, during this time, I remembered the name of God, long forgotten the Lord's prayer, also a couple of prayers, and even a few invented himself. But it seemed God fell asleep, and did not want to Wake up to something here to help. So it took more time. A hand softly touched on the shoulder, is a surgeon. "How? What? Alive?" And he turned around and walked off. There was no need of words, they are now superfluous. He fell to his knees and wept. He knew she had to live was to give birth to a son, to bring home the joy, the comfort... it was supposed to be his wife, his dream! She couldn't die, couldn't just break into his life for five minutes, to leave and never return. She had no right to die today, and tomorrow to kill him... Because their son was supposed to be her eyes. Eyes.... "Excuse me, surgeon turned, - what color were her eyes?" "Blue... Blue is the color of the sky"

- He had an accident?
- Yes, it trampled truck called "life".

- What have you got here, Danny?
- An accident. And why don't we say "accident"?
- An accident means that no one is to blame.