Beats the alternative, anyway.
(Yes, I know it’s not Tuesday or Thursday, but I owe you a second blog. And anyway, I’ll be traveling again next Tuesday so don’t expect much next week since I’ll be out of internet range unless I go to Starbucks and that’s not likely during track season in Saratoga.)
There’s something a bit poignant (and a teensy bit gut-wrenching) in getting that first ding on a brand new car. Yeah. I haven’t owned a new car (really new as opposed to “new to me”) in something like 30 years. I like this car (as much as I can be said to like any car). But it ain’t new no more.
I’m not going to go into details. Suffice to say, the event was not my fault (I was not in the car at the time). The car wasn’t moving, which is probably a good thing, otherwise it might have sustained more damage. Chances are the hood and left front quarter panel will have to be replaced. (I’ll find out more next week.) I keep thinking I should be upset. But I’m not.
Maybe it’s because I feel more gratitude than anything. Gratitude that no one was hurt. There was no blood and mayhem, no body parts strewn across the highway. Maybe it’s because I’ve had so much stress lately, planning on my mother’s arrival into my home that everything else seems minor by comparison. Whatever the cause, I just can’t find it in me to sweat this. In fact, the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing has me on the verge of laughter. No, I don’t think the cheese is slipping off my cracker; quite the contrary. I think it’s a damned good thing my soul can still find humor. I’d begun to wonder.
So, what the heck. It’s driveable. I’m alive. Hubby’s alive. The pets are safe. Those we love are doing well. In the balance of things, a dented hood and cracked headlamp don’t measure as much.