The Monday before we went to Florida, I got in my minivan and waited for the boys to pile in the car to go to school.  Peter and Samuel were first in, as usual, with Matthew tagging along behind.  When he came to the garage, there was no way for him to squeeze around the front of the car to get in on the passenger side.  Brad had parked my van after church Sunday night and he had warned me it was extremely close on the passenger side.

I knew this.  I knew it was tight.  But when I backed up a little to allow Matthew to walk around the front of the car, I forgot my sliding passenger door was open.  And I caught the side of the garage with the door.

I will hear that horrible grating noise in my nightmares for the rest of my life.

The repair – just to fix the sliding door – was close to $500.  The scratch?  Well, the car has over 100K miles and is 7+ years old.  Let’s just say it’s seen better days, and one scratch isn’t going to detract from its value at this point in life.

I had a picture of the scratch because I immediately texted it to Brad.  But I can’t retrieve it now.  So use your imagination.

All of that’s very interesting, I know you agree, but what’s the big deal, right?  I mean, so I hit the side of the garage.  It’s never happened before.  I haven’t had any kind of an accident in many, many years.  It wasn’t even enough to claim for insurance purposes.  I mean, that’s why we have an emergency fund.

Then on Friday, I went to see our dentist whose office is in one of those really big buildings in downtown Dallas.  It was a routine cleaning – nothing that involved a trauma of any sort – and it was around Noon when I jumped in BRAD’S car to come home.  Brad drives a 2007 Accord that I hand-picked for him, almost brand-spanking new off the lot.  It’s a beauty – dark navy blue with a little sparkle.  I think you can see where I’m going with this…

I swear I looked over my left shoulder.  I saw the post at the front of the car – I just neglected to see the one at the back of the driver’s side.  I had my wheels cut over so I could SLOWLY pull out of the space and I looked over my right shoulder to make sure no one was behind me.  That’s when I heard it – that same horrible (now familiar) grating noise.

I slammed on the brakes and saw that I had caught the front bumper on the second post.  I inched forward, fully expecting a scratch like I found on my van.  Oh no, that would have been too easy.  When I got out to check Brad’s car, his front bumper was hanging off.




It looks a lot worse in person.  The entire front bumper is unattached to the car.  In fact, they are going to replace the entire thing.  Oh, and this one, we claim.

So when they called to ask me if there was anyone else involved in the accident, I just had to sigh and say “No Ma’am.  It was just me and the pole.”  Too bad the pole didn’t have insurance.  🙁

I just have one question: Is this what happens when you turn 40?  Because if so, someone needs to remind my brain I still have a few more months to go.