photo credit: Google Images (not my car)
Minding my own business, then BOOM! Literally, two minutes away from home, I’m hit. Less than 3 minutes before impact, the other driver cut me off by making a right turn from the left-turn lane. Why was I surprised when she followed that up with driving into my lane and colliding with my car? Sometimes I wonder if Cracker Jack gifts licenses.
As calmly as possible, I exchanged information while processing what happened, as she apologized. I nodded and remained silent. My car has been hit three times in less than a year (insert unhappy emojis).
I sulked in my sorrow all day, like the Lakers when they lost Dwight Howard. Seriously! The accident happened around 12:45 a.m. I went to sleep and woke up at 7:30 a.m., then made a trip to IKEA for project therapy. I refused to answer/return texts or calls until about 6 p.m. After, talking it out with two awesome friends, I got over myself.
The day before, George Zimmerman was found not guilty, so Trayvon Martin’s parents lost a child and received injustice in exchange. The family and friends of Cory Monteith also lost an irreplaceable creation.
Yes, I have a right to feel the way I choose. In the grand scheme of things, the accident is not important. My car can be fixed and even if it couldn’t, it is replaceable. Letting the damage to a material object affect me the way it did is silly.
Each time my car has been hit, I’ve walked away with a drivable car and all limbs intact. My side mirror, rear door and side panel have to be replaced but I’m good. I’m lucky because it could have been worse.