FIVE HOURS AFTER we finished staining the fence enclosing our backyard, an out-of-control vehicle slammed into it, missing our house by about 15 feet.
We were just wrapping up bible study at a friend’s house across town when my neighbor, Ken, called around 8:45 p.m. Tuesday. It is the first time Ken has ever called me, so I figured something must be up. It was. Or, rather, down. There was, he said, a vehicle crashed in our yard with fence panels down and the cops on site. You might want to come home, he suggested.
Randy and I arrived home to a street flooded with emergency vehicles and personnel and neighbors outdoors watching everything unfold. By then, Willow Street, an arterial roadway through Faribault, had been blocked. Likewise, Tower Place, the side street along our corner property was closed to traffic.
As Randy pulled the van into the driveway, I saw the power pole on the corner was askew, broken. We, and others in the neighborhood, were without power. A power line stretched low across Willow, high enough for most vehicles, but not semis.
Then we walked around our garage to see a black Suburban partially sticking into our yard, one fence panel angled, another demolished, a third scratched. I’ll admit, I was furious. So angry I didn’t even ask about the condition of the driver initially. All I could think of was the fence, the one we’d just finished staining hours earlier in the heat of an unusually hot and humid September day. The 10-panel lattice-topped fence that has stood for some 25 years unscathed.
I asked what happened. Good question, the officer replied. By then I realized a second vehicle, a pick-up truck, was also involved. That sat turned across Willow Street near its intersection with Tower. Finally, I inquired about the drivers. They fled the scene, the policeman said. I asked the officer to check our garage to assure no one was hiding inside. It was empty.
It was a long night. Of talking to police. Of calling our eldest daughter, who lives in Minnesota. Of texting our insurance agent. Of texting our bible study friends. Of talking to the tow truck driver. Of talking to the Xcel Energy crew dispatched to install a new power pole. They labored until 4 a.m. to place the new pole and wires and restore power.
We slept only a few hours given adrenalin and then the noise of the Xcel trucks.
I’m still mad about all of this. I want to know what happened. What occurred between the two vehicles to cause the Suburban to take out a power pole, nearly hitting our bedroom and wiping out part of our fence. A high rate of speed was apparently involved given skid marks and damage to vehicles. Why did the drivers flee the scene?
And who’s going to pay for new fence panels? Install them? And stain them?
In the light of Wednesday morning, my anger has lessened some as I reflect on a “this could have been worse scenario.” The drivers could have been killed. The Suburban could have hit our house, specifically our bedroom, when we were sleeping. Had this happened during the day, when we were staining the fence, well, I don’t really want to think about that.
One witness has the answers. He sat calmly in the front passenger seat of the Suburban. So quiet I didn’t even realize he was there until an officer alerted me. The witness, a Saint Bernard, was coaxed out of the Suburban and loaded into the back of a squad car. If only dogs could speak.
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NOTE: Nighttime images were taken with cellphones, thus the low quality.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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