Dispatch tells us the call is for a “car into a house.” In a neighborhood. How this happens, I don’t know, but will eventually find out.
I mean, houses are like, so…big, and kinda easy to miss. But the ability of the general public to do strange things never ceases to amaze me.
Uppity neighborhood. Half-million dollar homes. Three car garages. Manicured lawns. Sidewalks and junk.
We find the home. One of the garage doors is destroyed. With a Hummer H3 amidst the rubble.
Except…the Hummer doesn’t look like it ran into the house. It looks like it smashed out of the house.
Crying and walking around is a young, high-school age girl. She’s on the phone with someone. She doesn’t appear physically injured, so we let her finish the phone call.
Then we find out what happened.
Her parents are out of town for the weekend, and she was late going to meet some of her friends. The garage door wouldn’t open. Neither her remote nor the button on the wall would work.
She thought the best course of action was to drive through the door, so she wouldn’t be late.
I mean, who would have thought to manually open a garage door?
One of the firemen installs garage doors on his days off. He says this is a custom job, and an insulated door. Basically, it’s fancy.
He says some words like “custom” and “carriage house” and “wooden” and stuff.
Ten grand worth of damage to the door alone.
It would be nice to have a rich daddy.