So, I wrecked my car today. Not in the convenient sustain-a-minor-injury-and-get-a-little-settlement-that-might-make-Jack-feel-better-about-the-kitchen-renovation-and-maybe-even-agree-to-finally-redo-the-bathroom(s) way. No. Not me. I wrecked my car in the shit-I-hope-no-one-saw-that way.
Wrecked may be too strong a word. Bruised would be more accurate. I bruised my car. And my ego.
I was on my way to a home inspection. It was raining – the annoying kind of rain where the perfect windshield wiper speed is impossible to achieve. What makes it even more annoying is that my (piece of shit) KIA windshield wipers are now making a loud noise as they drag across my windshield. It sounds like a braying donkey. It makes me want to harm someone.
Anyway, I was on my way to the inspection and it was raining and the road was kind of curvy. I had only been to the house a few times and I wasn’t terribly familiar with the area. At one point (JUST before the bruising occurred), I thought I had missed my turn, so I glanced to the right for just a second. Unfortunately, at that very second, the road curved ever-so-slightly to the left and, before I knew it, I was sideswiping a tree. Or something branchy.
Ugh. How embarrassing.
Fortunately, there was no one else on the road at the time. And I say ‘fortunately’, not because I could have hurt someone, but because there was no one to witness my stupidity. Yes, I am aware that my priorities are a bit askew.
I hadn’t even missed my turn, which disappointed me a little bit, to be honest. Somehow it would have made me feel a little bit better to at least have been right about that. Because I do so LOVE to be right.
So, I pulled up to the house and parked on the street, opened the driver’s side door, noticed that I had turfed a bit of the yard (classy!) and stepped out of the car…into mud. In clogs.
I kind of just wanted to go home and go back to bed at that point. Instead, I sloshed over to the passenger side to take a look at the damage. I was afraid to look at it. Auto body repairs can be pretty costly and I’m already on Jack’s short-list of People To Smother In Their Sleep because of the kitchen rehab that’s pretty much dashed his hopes of ever owning a Porsche.
When I got to the passenger side, I was pleased to see that there were just a few minor scratches on the side of the car (the really faint kind that can easily be buffed out), the mirror was knocked in (but it’s the kind that folds in, so no biggie, right?) and the door handle was intact except it was missing the little black cover thingy from the part you push with your thumb to open it.
‘No problem,’ thought I, ‘I’ll just go to the area near the tree that accosted me, find the little black cover thingy and pop it back on. Jack will NEVER HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS.’
I had left my purse and briefcase on the passenger seat, so I grabbed the door handle to open it…and it broke off in my hand.
I should probably tell you that, IN SPITE OF WHAT JACK SAYS, I’m an excellent driver. No, really, I am. I can bob and weave through traffic with the grace of a gazelle. I am aware of (most of) my surroundings at (almost) all times, and if there were a Cirque du Soleil of parallel parking, I would be the showstopper.
Disclosure: I am utterly incapable of pulling into a parking space without looking like an ass. Weird, right? I mean, who has difficulty with that? It’s the easiest thing a driver will ever have to do. For some reason, I always end up cockeyed – I’m either completely diagonal or I’m sitting on (or over) the line. It’s gotten to the point where I stop the car, put it in park and glance over at Jack to see if he’s shaking his head before I turn the car off. He is ALWAYS shaking his head (slowly) and rolling his eyes.
Disclosure #2: I have a bit of a problem with potholes. I plow right through them. Every. Single. Time.
Me: Sorry. I didn’t see it.
Jack: How did you not see it? It was HUGE!
Me: I’m short. I have difficulty seeing over the hood.
Whenever there’s an issue with my car, I dread telling him about it.
Me: Honey, my car has a little shimmy.
Jack: You probably need your tires balanced.
Me: They just balanced them the last time I got my oil changed. It’s also pulling to the right. A lot.
Jack: Did you hit something?
Me: I don’t know why you always have to accu– oh…wait. Never mind.
I decided to text him rather than call him. I mean, he’s so busy at work and all. It had NOTHING TO DO with the fact that I didn’t want to hear his disappointed sigh.
Me: I sideswiped my car and broke the passenger side handle. 😦
Jack: Who did you hit?
Me: A tree. 😦
Jack: Is the tree ok?
True story. Is the tree ok?
Step back, ladies. I saw him first.