Last year, one morning a rumbling noise woke me briefly before I drowsed back off again.
After we both were up properly, I asked my DH if we'd had a thunderstorm this morning. He said no, and was obviously trying not to look at me like I was nuts.
Driving to work, I found I had to go the long way out of the street because there were police and fire trucks on the corner of Our Street and Big Street. I learned the rest of the story as the day went on.
That morning, someone driving way too fast for the road lost control of their van, careened across the oncoming lanes of traffic and slammed into a corner house's garage. It was an impressive feat, as they managed to hit just the right angle to slide in between the tree and fence. The house caught on fire. One of the occupants was elderly, and had a stash of oxygen tanks beside the garage.
The booming noise that had woken me that morning was those oxygen tanks exploding.
Amazing, nobody was killed, and the residents were renters, so their losses weren't as great as they could have been. The house was gutted and had to be completely rebuilt. It's now for sale way overpriced for the tiny little thing that it is, and we don't expect that they're going to actually sell it anytime soon.