The twisted wreckage of an 18-wheeler lay smashed into the side of a ravine with the driver hopelessly trapped inside. One man saved the life of that truck driver three years ago.

The hero’s name is Mike Bizub – and he is my dad.

It snowed that morning and the roads were icy; my dad chose to stay home until they improved. My mom decided to visit my grandma at the end of our road, which is an access road for the turnpike. As my mom came around the bend of my grandma’s driveway, she heard a loud noise and our van shook. She didn’t realize what had happened until she got out and saw the truck’s trailer sticking out of the ravine. She ran to my grandma’s house to call the police – and my dad.

When my dad got there a state trooper told him not to go near the truck; he didn’t think the driver was going to live. My dad went down anyway and found the driver, José, alert. My dad talked and prayed with him to keep him calm. When the cab of the truck caught fire, my dad put it out with the extinguisher from his truck. When the ambulance came, the paramedics didn’t want to go near the truck. They asked my dad to take José’s blood pressure and perform other procedures. My dad took his blood pressure, but José’s legs were crushed between his seat and the dashboard. They had to cut the cab apart to get him out.

Today José is doing fine; he is walking and has gone back to school. The day of the crash was his birthday. My dad was honored by our town, and our governor met with my dad to recognize his heroism. My dad says life is precious and he would have done it for anyone. He doesn’t consider himself a hero, but I do, every day.