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As we were travelling down Sunset, I glanced out the window and saw a bicyclist get run over by a big commercial truck. It sort of clipped him from the side and slammed him to the ground. I shouted, "Oh my God, I think Bob just got run over by a truck!" Another staff member told me to stop spreading entheta (bless her heart - it must have sounded pretty harsh the way I blurted it out). I grabbed a friend and demanded to be let out of the bus.�We sprinted back to the scene of the accident, and there lay Bob's body in a growing pool of blood. The truck driver was openly crying, asking how such a thing could happen, worried that maybe he could have avoided it (very unlikely, from what I saw).