An exercise in writing at three thirty in the morning

As I was driving home last night just before dusk and before the fog had settled in I saw a car with it's hood up on the other side of the road. There was a little girl with a toy whistle in her hand leaning against the back bumper of the car. The girl was singing softly to herself while she nonchalantly kicked at the pebbles near her feet. Her mother was talking on a cell phone and gesturing frantically. As I stopped and rolled down my window the woman looked at me nervously, reached into the front seat of her car and pulled out a tire iron. The woman then called towards her daughter. The little girl looked up, then looked towards her mother, and then towards me. The little girl then dropped her whistle and ran for her mother. I rolled my window back up and drove away eyeing the car in my rear view mirror until it was out of sight.