So, I don’t have an actual picture to go along with this, but I have a picture of the truck it was going to happen in!
My fiancé and I were moved in April (yes, this post is a little late) and we moved 1 block from our old house. Needless to say, we didn’t pay for movers; we moved ourselves and had folks with trucks help us out.
So brings us to Way #3 to die, which is: falling out of a moving truck and being subsequently run over by my fiancé.
Here’s how it came up: We packed as much as we could into my fiancée’s dad’s Ford F150 (99 I think). We had the truck hatch down, and my fiancée’s mom and me were sitting with our legs hanging down to keep the stuff from falling out. As we ride up the hill to our new house, my fiancé, who is following us in his 1996 Jeep Cherokee about 2 feet back, my fiancée’s dad hits a small bump. Fiancés’ mom and I shriek, grab each other and lock our feet together. It’s then we hear my fiancée’s Jeep’s engine rev and we looked at him as he smiled. So. If the bump had been bigger, and if we had fallen out of the truck (of course fiancée’s dad wouldn’t see since there was so much stuff in the truck he couldn’t possibly see us fall) we would have instantly been run over by my fiancé. Talk about a nice way to say I love you!