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Never ignore a late-night call. Mine cost a man his last chance at survival and since that night, every late-night call feels like an emergency to me.
Some years ago, a childhood friend of mine started a transportation business. We grew up together and even lived on the same street. The business was doing well. New investors were coming in, new vehicles were being added, and things were looking promising.
Then one night, around 2 a.m., one of his drivers had an accident on the Port Harcourt–Aba Road near Trailer Park Junction. He was alone, returning home to his family after work.
According to what we later heard, he wasn’t speeding. But he ran into a stationary trailer that had been left parked in the middle of the road. The impact didn’t kill him, but the front of the minibus crushed his legs and trapped him inside.
The road was almost empty at that hour.
No help, no traffic, no witnesses, Just a man trapped in a wrecked vehicle.
Somehow, he managed to reach his phone. He started calling for help, he called fellow drivers, he called people he knew.
Nobody picked.
Then he called his boss, my friend. My friend answered immediately.
The driver explained what had happened, and my friend told him he was on his way.
The problem was transportation, so my friend started calling me.
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