My Turn

I have been told it's time to shine the spotlight of shame on me, so here goes, my husband's favorite story. I've mentioned before that I didn't get my drivers license until I was older (much older), and for the longest time I hated parking. It was okay if I could pull through into a parking space, but if I had to back the van up to get out, I was toast. The first few times I went out alone, I'd panic and have to call Rob so that he could drive out to wherever I was and re-park my vehicle. He was very patient.

One day I set out for the grocery store, the parking lot was crowded and I was forced to pull in beside the cart corral. The space was a bit tight and I heard an awful grinding sound as I pulled in. I put it into reverse, and heard an even louder noise.  Uh oh, this wasn't good. Rob was at work, no way was he going to be able to bail me out of this predicament.

Fortunately a kindly man returning his grocery cart noticed my plight and offered his assistance. It turned out that I was impaled on a piece of metal that was jutting out, and I was in the process of gradually dismantling the side of the cart corral as I scraped back & forth.  Luckily with the good Samaritan's directions, I was eventually able to free myself, much to the amusement of several passers by.

The man warned me that I had a nasty scrape on the side of my van, but there was no way in hell I was going to get out and check it. I was so embarrassed I drove straight home and didn't even go into the grocery store. In fact, I wouldn't go anywhere near the place, and had to shop at a different store for the next two months.

When I got home, I got out and checked the side of the van. Holy Mother Of God. It wasn't just a nasty scrape, half the bloody door was dented in. What the hell was I going to tell Rob ? Whatever it was I'd better make it good. Then I had an Epiphany. Once I got him on the phone, I chit chatted about his day, and then asked him the all important question "Given the choice, would you rather I had brought home a kitten or pranged the van ?" Without missing a beat he answered "I hope to hell you pranged the van". Phew, crisis averted. Thank goodness for my penchant to bring home stray cats, I just knew it would come in handy one day.

According to Rob; it was my van, my accident, my problem and therefore up to me to get it fixed. That hasn't happened yet and probably never will. Even tho' the door doesn't quite close properly, and if I'm moving at any rate of speed (which is always for me) there is a loud whistling noise through the gap. I rather think the dent adds an air of mystery and if anybody asks how it happens, the answer I give is nowhere near the truth !