Yes, at least I think I was 8 years old anyway. I remember like it was yesterday. My dad worked as a maintenence man for an apartment complex. My mom and I were leaving after dropping him off after lunch. We had an old long cargo van of some kind. She had her seatbelt on, ready to go, I was in the front seat, my dad was saying goodbye, and shut the door. Which was good, because you need to have all of the doors shut in order to drive the car down the road. The bad part was, my right hand pinky was stuck in the door. The door completely shut and I distinctly remember being speechless and just like, I wanted to yell or scream or cry but I couldn't. I just sat there, trying to pull my finger out but it wouldn't budge.
In the meantime (which seemed like hours, all happening in slow motion), my mom is trying to reach over to open the door, but her seatbelt's on, my dad is trying to open the door but it's locked (because we're safe like that). Oh my gosh, what an ordeal. He ended up sliding open the side door, unlocking the passenger door and opening it. Right then is when I thought it a good time to start crying, which I did.
Amazingly enough, I didn't have a broken finger, I didn't even lose my fingernail. It just got a nice shae of purple and that was it. Healed within a week I think. God deal.
