My car got hit. Again. This is the third fourth time* since September 2006, when I bought it. New. This time, by an unattended car.
Don and I spent an hour together at the house Saturday morning because the Little One spent the night with my folks and a girl cousin. I took down two layers of ceiling tiles from the upstairs future/former porch. Two layers. With furring strips in between, but Don took down the furring strips. Then the Little One and I went to drama class and then home for lunch, while Don stayed at the house and pulled nails.
I went to the Fayetteville Public Library Saturday afternoon when Don came back from pulling nails. It was rainy. My books were due. I wanted to learn about doors and native plants. (I have a feeling I’m about to get compulsive about native plants now that my native rock wall is nearly done.)
I parked in the beautiful parking garage, went in, renewed a few books. (Still reading Jekyll’s Water and Wall Gardens. The Little One was still reading some of her books.) Found a couple of Taunton Press books about doors. (Thinking about exterior, folding doors to our future/past porches. Or French doors. Or something to open onto our porches.) Found two or three books about native plants. Found a book for the Little One. Saw a colleague who teased about the number of books. Checked them out and found the car. Walked around the car to put books in passenger seat. Walked back.
Thought idly about the car backing out, “It really needs its lights on.”
Heard a crunch and a shriek. (The shriek was mine.)
Heard a lady near the entrance to the library hollering, “Are you OK?”
Answered, “Yes. I think so. But my car was smashed and there’s nobody in the other car.” (Or something like that, only less coherent.)
She offered to come up the parking ramp and check on me, which seemed like a good idea. So she did, while I wondered how long it would take to find a person whose car has just rolled into yours. She looked at the car that was embedded in my car and recognized it.
It was hers. She offered a hug, while I thought about how the Little One could have been smashed by that car if she had come with me. Or I could have. But, nobody was, just this stupid accident magnet car.
She was more shaken than I was — probably because she’s not used to her car attacking other vehicles — but it’s not like it’s her fault. My car is the accident magnet; hers just happened to be the, ahem, vehicle to accomplish it this time. We exchanged cards — we’re both working for the same entity — and I’ll get yet another body shop estimate this week. Seems to me the last bumper replacement was between $500 and $600.
Here’s a picture — very boring, just a poorly illuminated cracked bumper, nothing much to look at here.
Not sure how many times my car has to be hit before I get the hint.
*First: October 2006 (before my first car payment): Rear-ended by high school senior. Her question: “Why were you stopped? The light was green.” My answer: “Traffic in front of me was stopped.” Her dad was grateful that I didn’t call her insurance company. Bumper replaced.
Second: December 2006: Waiting to turn left at a light. A hubcap flung itself at my car. Thunked the driver’s side door. A little scratch, but nobody stopped to check on me.
Third: August 2007: Coming down my parents’ driveway. Contractor (who was fifteen minutes late) ran into me at great speed. Rendered my car undriveable, and my dad had to drive his truck down the hill and around my car so I could get to work. $6k damage. Rented a Titan for a month. It was even bigger than our F150.
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