My poor car has been violated...whimper, whimper. Now you have to understand…I’m the kind of person who parks her car in the far reaches of any parking lot rather than subject it to some thoughtless person who might swing open his door right into its side or some shopping cart which might go racing through the lot directly into any car in its way. Yes…my husband and friends make fun of my car obsession but I don’t care. For the past 2 ½ years, I’ve managed to keep my car bright and shiny and unscathed.
Earlier this week, I took my mom to the YMCA and then out to lunch at our favorite deli. I love taking my mom there because her handicap parking placard allows us to park in the widest spots in the lot right in front of the entrance. So, imagine my chagrin when we walked outside after finishing and found big black smudges on the already dirty front passenger door. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how or why this could happen although it did occur to me that the passenger side was unprotected since there was no parking space directly on the right. Along with the black smudges were white paint chips and my shrewd detective brain deduced that something white (perhaps another car) had somehow tried getting out of another spot by turning into my door. I looked around but, of course, there was no note left by the offending individual. Why was I not surprised? I rubbed my finger on the door and was delighted to see the paint chips fall away and I assumed the black smudges would disappear when I next had my car washed.
Today I took my car into the dealership for its regularly scheduled service. One of the perks is that they wash the cars once the service is complete. When they drove my car out into the driveway, I was devastated to see a very clean and shiny car with a very noticeable dent in the passenger door. Apparently, all the dirt and smudges had masked the actual damage which occurred that day in the parking lot. Yes, yes…I know it’s only a car and the dent is only a cosmetic blemish...it certainly does not affect the car’s real purpose which is to get me from one place to another. And I know I will eventually come to terms with this but, until then, I’m angry that someone would hurt my beloved car and not even take responsibility for their actions. Grrr……
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1 comment:
Oh my GAWD you are not even blood related to Uncle Bill but you sound just like him about his car and have that car gene which,we his kids by blood, don't have. I don't know how you managed it but you have Auntie Evelyn's shopping gene and Uncle Bill's car gene. Watch it Rick, you may find the car in the living room to keep it safe and clean one of these days. That's what my mom always believed would happen.
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