It happened in 1995 on Friday the Thirteenth I was only ten months old sitting in a car seat in the backseat of my great grandma’s car with my mom and my aunty, it was raining slightly with the radio down low and they were all chatting amongst themselves and while I was sleeping. We were on our way to grandma’s house and grandma was driving over some train tracks when suddenly they heard a crash before they realized it the car was moving sideways; not what they expect from a car ride. Then they realized the big crashing sound was the train hitting the car we were in from the drivers side backend where my mom and I were, the train hit us hard but fortunately not hard enough because if it were to hit us any harder my mom and I, maybe even all of us would have been dead. Once we were out of the car and the train had come to a complete halt the officer on the scene told my great grandma we were all lucky to be alive while my grandma thought she might’ve done something wrong by not listening for the train whistle, but the officer replied saying it was nothing to do with that. In fact it was the engineers fault by forgetting to blow the whistle plus the lights and handles didn’t comedown in time and that she should go and by herself a lotto ticket because today was the luckiest day of her life. My grandma was so distraught with the aftermath that she called him stupid and asked how this was lucky we could have all died but the officer was right it was lucky because 80% of the time people don’t survive a train crash especially if they are in a vehicle we must have had some pretty good guardian angels watching us that day because if we hadn’t survived I would not be here on this fine Friday the 13th of 2013. Now my aunty is terrified or all Friday the thirteenths and my mom is complete opposite she is grateful for this day, me on the other hand I’m not quite sure what I think of this day ever since I was little I had ben told this is a bad luck day an I never really believed it until seventh grade. Friday the thirteenth I was at school and this boy in my class had gone to open his locker then all I remember is him screaming like he was dying, scared the shit out of us we turned to see he had blood dripping down his face from his head; like the part in the movie Carrie after she was covered in red paint at the school dance. He had cut open his head and needed to be rushed to the hospital all of us gathered around to pray (since I was going to a catholic school at the time) It seemed weird to me, but remembering this story about what happened to me when I was young I wasn’t so sure and Honestly I’m still not to this day I mean yeah the day is sort of creepy in all senses but I believe I am truly lucky to be here today I just hope nothing else happens from now on these future Friday the thirteenths.