on may seventeenth i was headed to the dupont library for a work meeting. the dupont library parking lot is tiny, confined, and there are no pull-through spots. i'm afraid of backing out my car, and i've been driving it for four years now. soooo i decided to troll that teeny little lot to test my skills at backing out.
while i was creeping forward at two miles an hour looking for an open spot, a kid on a permit dressed for a band concert backed into the side of my car.
for about ten seconds i thought it was my fault, said a few choice words, turned down my lion king soundtrack, and contemplated what to do, because i'd just hit a car. after that ten seconds was over and i realized that there was no physical way that i could've hit this car and that he hit had hit me, i shut my car off and was confronted by his worried mother who spoke way too loudly.
she made the police call, made sure i had my insurance information, yelled calmly that it wasn't my fault, lamented loudly that my car had a decent amount of damage on the back passenger door, and wrote down all of her information in the most interesting handwriting i'd ever seen. then she yelled, "well, if you're not hurt, we're late for a concert. call my insurance agent."
i guess yelling is her thing.
and call her insurance agent we did.
after class the next week i took my poor car to the body shop, and they gave me a gigantic estimate- eighteen hundred bucks to fix the doors. fixing those would mean REMOVING both doors and their windows. i was thoroughly convinced that we would have to pay for this, and i was very distraught on the drive home, because this would mean my dad was shelling out four thousand bucks, ON ME, this summer for education and transportion. i was incredibly happy when he told me that the family of the kid who hit me would be paying for the damages. now that lady had something to really yell about.
currently, my car is being fixed. my brother has our thirteen year old minivan (we call it the crimson avenger) up at alma while he studies his creepy spiders, and my dad of course, has his stick shift which hates me and makes me think of that time of the month.
thus, i am left without a car.
after class this morning, enterprise picked me up (their ads are true!) and drove me to their headquarters. after filling out some paperwork and calling my father because i didn't have my auto insurance card on hand, the nice enterprise guy (his name was dale) gave me the keys to a chevy HHR and told me to have a nice day.
in my family, we drive ford vehicles and nothing else. my grandpa was an engineer at ford. we live by the slogan 'built ford tough'. when we have a gathering, you'll know, because there will be at least five ford vehicles decorating the street. chevy is our enemy. and i was just going to have to get over that for a week.
i didn't realize how old my car was until i slid into the relatively new HHR. my car, which is turning eight this summer, seems new. it looks nice and new. it has its six CD changer. we've taken good care of it. it drives smoothly and wonderfully.
the HHR had a teeny windshield. the dashboard controls were entirely different and upgraded, and it took me forever to find the volume button for the radio. my left ear is clogged and i'm half deaf, so my music needed some pumping up. there was only one slot for a CD, but i was ready for that.
i was, however, NOT ready to hunt for the side mirror control. i sat in the enterprise parking lot trying to find every control; turn signal, side mirror, and the seat slider. i found a curious button in the same area, but it just tilted the seat forward, which threw my back, snug in its back brace, into distress. i couldn't figure out how to move the damn seat forward. luckily, god granted me mysteriously long legs, and i could drive semi-comfortably, until i had to stomp on the brakes for a clueless construction worker who decided that walking in traffic was a good idea.
i got the HHR home in one piece while navigating the terror that is currently lima road. i parked it in the garage without taking off the side mirror. the ugly chevy sits in my garage waiting for me to take it work this evening.
i think it laughs at me.
while it sits in my garage, my beautiful focus is getting fixed up. that's what's going to get me through this week; knowing that on saturday, i can ditch the evil chevy and get back into my beautiful car, and it WILL be beautiful. i just gotta keep telling myself that.
find. ford. zen.
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