The other day I was driving down I4, headed for the Flea Market, because Lindsey wanted to do one last redneck thing before heading back to DC. We got off at the Lake Mary exit and I watched in horror as a white Lexus skidded off the road and flipped down the hill, before stopping in a ditch. Other cars seemed to ignore the accident. Maybe they didn't see it, or didn't believe what they were seeing. But, I speed over to the edge of the ditch, threw my phone to Emily to call 911 and ran over to the wrecked car. The passenger window was laying on the ground next to the car. I poked my head through the broken window, not knowing what to expect. There was a girl no older than 20 looking terribly afraid, but uninjured. She was shaking badly and looking disoriented. I asked her if she could move all of her limbs. She could. She tried to open the driver's side door and I tried the passenger door. Both were stuck. Lindsey approached the car and we both helped her out through the passenger window. She checked out the car and said, "my parents are going to kill me." We assured her that the car would be the least of their concerns.