Close Call

Thanks for all your kind words yesterday in the comments.  I am hoping that my brother decides to find another caregiver for my elderly father soon (no easy task, I know that); in the meantime, I just had to vent.  Her arrogance just stunned me.  How hard is it to be kind?

And, in good news, I narrowly avoided incurring hundreds of dollars in damages today.  You see, when I park, I normally choose to park far away from other cars.  But today I had Susie in the car, and it was raining; so, against my better judgment, I tried to angle in between a mid-size truck and a mini-Cooper that, unfortunately, began to pull out just as I was pulling in to my space.  Startled, I edged too much to my right and heard the horrific sound of SCRAAAAAAPE as I parked.

I swear, it was deafening.

A very dangerous place...

I had to back up (again, "SCRAAAAAAPE" - ouch), swing to the left, and park before I could jump out and survey the damage, all the while exercising superhuman restraint to hold in a whole slew of swear words as I pictured the repair bill that would soon be winging its way toward me -- all because I had been too lazy to park in the outer reaches of the lot.  Dammit, I kept saying (to myself) as I unbuckled and walked around the back of my van.  What the heck happened?  How could I have done something SO STUPID?  And what was the point of visiting a crowded shopping center for a 2-for-1 pizza special if I'm going to end up paying the equivalent of 48 pizzas to fix someone else's car?

And then?  A miracle.  The truck I sideswiped happened to have those bumpers that are made of a rubbery plastic, along with raised trim around the wheel wells made of the same.  Not a scratch.  Nothing.  I looked at my car, which hadn't fared quite so well; but still, a scratch down the passenger side of my own vehicle was a small price to pay for my lack of parking expertise.

I unbuckled Susie and showed her that Mommy really hadn't done any damage (because we all KNOW Larry would hear her report first thing when he walked in the door at dinnertime, right?).  As we were standing there marveling at the resiliency of whatever material that bumper was made of, a youngish guy carrying some takeout lunch approached the truck, looking a tad puzzled at the sight of my matronly self fondling his wheel well trim.

"Oh, hi!" I said to him, almost giddy.  "I thought I wrecked your car, but I didn't!  See?  Nothing!"

"Um, yeah?" he said, apparently unsure of the proper etiquette in such situations.

"Yeah, look!" I said, gesturing at the bumper.  "See?  I scraped all along here, but there's no mark!"

Still eyeing me uneasily, he turned his attention to his truck and even ran his hands over the area I indicated to check for damage.

"See?"  I said.  "Perfectly all right!"  He still looked puzzled.  "Look at my car!" I told him.  "Now THAT's a scratch!  But your truck is fine!"  He looked and nodded, hesitantly.

"So, uh, we're good, right?" I asked, uncertain myself as to how to proceed.  "Do you want my info?"

"Um, no," he said.  "No, that's okay," and hurried into his vehicle.

Gosh, you'd think he'd be more grateful to me for not wrecking his truck, right?