A couple of years ago, John took our then bus out to somewhere in the middle of America for a trap shooting event. On the second day, they heard news of tornadoes in the area, but continued the shoot. It was really hot, and the group took shelter from the sun under a temporary lean-to, erected for that purpose. John was sitting in his golf cart under the lean-to when the sky turned from blue to dark grey and the winds became fierce.
Someone shouted, "Get out, it's going." And the lean-to began to sway in the wind. John fumbled with the keys, got the motor going and chugged out of the way, just as a huge gust took the structure down. It also took John down.
He was blown out of the cart, which continued on its way and drove straight into a Port-A-San, knocking it over. A man came running towards him, shouting "Are you okay? Are you okay?"
John was a little bruised and bloody, but it was only minor, so he assured the man that he was fine.
"No," the man said. "I mean my wife. She's in the Port-A-San."
You can't make things like this up.
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