So yesterday I'm walking over to 7-Eleven to get my late-afternoon suger rush when a truck passing me on the street hits a bump -- and a small girl comes flying out the back. She lands on the street, and the cars following the truck slow down and stop and wait for her to get out of their way. I run over and gingerly move her over to the side of the road right as one of the guys riding in the front of the truck she fell out of comes trotting back to retrieve her. He smiles and thanks me.

The moral? Stories are a lot more dramatic when you use the words "small girl" in place of "lawn mower."