Patti's stepdad drives very fast - which is generally not a bad thing, because he's a good driver, and as he kept repeating later today, he's never had an accident. However, rounding a corner at 80kpm, we chanced to hit the apparently only patch of ice on the whole road.
Here's where the seatbelts come in. We sort've spun off the road, skidded until we were backwards, and then tipped off the road into the snow-filled ditch. The snow was good at this point; it meant we had a fairly soft landing. We landed sideways, and fortunately didn't flip over.
I was half asleep when we skidded, and I opened my eyes to see the luggage and stuff on the seat next to me suddenly sliding rather quickly towards the other side of the car. I had a vaguely lucid recollection of "Hey, waitaminute..." before we were going all topsy-turvy.
Nobody was hurt, though, and the car wasn't even damaged. Soft landing. The only casualties were a donair and a cup of Tim Horton's coffee... the latter of which was greatly lamented by Patti's mum.
Standing outsided the car on the side of the road, I was suddenly *very* glad I'd gotten around to buying a new coat... 'cause it was bloody *freezing*, and we were out there for almost an hour, waiting for Patti's grandpa to come with his truck and pull the car out of the ditch. Patti and I played traffic cop to keep the other cars from getting in the way - made me really glad I was in Nova Scotia instead of Vancouver; doing that in Vancouver can get a person shot... ;)
But even standing on the side of the road waiting for the truck, almost every single car that passed stopped to talk to us, to ask if everyone was all right, etc, or to mock Patti's stepdad in Acadian French. Because *everyone* knew them. Out of about forty cars, almost thirty-five knew them by name. I think that by now the story is all over the town. It's a bit eerie. ;)
Anyway, I'm alive, and I'm back on the East coast. Classes start again Monday. Hope everyone had a good New Year, mutter mutter...