As you take it, Ford says, "Er, Look, thanks for lending me the towel... been nice knowing you... got to go now..." He smiles oddly and walks down the Country Lane.
The bulldozer driver gives a quick chew of his gum and slams in the clutch.
The bulldozer piles into the side of your home.
Your home collapses in a cloud of dust, and a stray flying brick hits you squarely on the back of your head. You try to think of some suitable last words, but what with the confusion of the moment and the spinning of your head, you are unable to compose anything pithy and expire in silence.