My mother began to describe what had happened; he had received a phone call informing him that he had been in a car accident together with my stepmother, his father and his three children. They had been on a trip to see some land we owned in Montana. It was only a short trip and they were due home in a couple of days. Tears began to flow down my cheeks and I came to recognize and understand what was happening. My grandfather took me into his lap and held me close while my mother continued with the horrible story. He told us they had stopped for gas and needed to check their tire pressure. My dad had checked all the tires except the furthest front one, the air hose didn't go that far and he didn't have time and didn't want to go through the hassle of moving the truck just to check it. So they left and were now on their way home. They had traveled a few miles along the highway when they came to a large, downhill hill. As they were descending, the far front tire, the same tire he had refused to check, blew out. This caused the truck to roll over three and a half times, causing them all to land upside down in the middle of the road. Only a few minutes had passed