I hope it doesn't become a habit.
But I feel I owe an explanation for breaking my post practically everyday streak.
CAR ACCIDENT.
or wreck if you prefer. or rear ending encounter.
Let me set the scene. 7:35am CST. 394 East. I merged into the right lane so I could get on 94E. Traffic was heavier than normal so we were STOPPED. I decide to take a drink from my 'mini' coffee cup I got from the elderly man who lives in 111 and makes every morning for us in our lobby.
SIP.
LOOK IN REARVIEW MIRROR.
SEE ASTRO VAN COMING AT ME AT 40 MPH. roughly.
Keep in mind I am stopped as are the 28490845 cars in front of me waiting to go through the Lowry tunnel.
cue: IMPACT.
I shut my eyes at the last second because I thought to myself, I'm going to die from a chevy astro van??? How uncool. I do not want to see this.
My life flashed before my eyes. Falling down the basement stairs in the walker. Almost drowning in the hotel pool when I was 4. Falling under the merry go round when I was in kindegarden and having Miss Shank carry me like a baby back to Elm Creek. And of course, the John Mayer concert of February 2007. (but I think about that one everyday so that's nothing new)
As the flashes came so came the splashes. Apparently a huge van hitting you at a medium speed makes your arms go up to instinctively protect your face. EVEN IF YOU'RE HOLDING COFFEE.
My entire car smells like French Vanilla. Not that I have it to smell. Abra Body Shop will be smelling it for the unknown days/weeks/forever to come.
Anyway, to paint you a pic, we'll call my car #1, the 50 year old woman inf ront of me #2, and the NICEST MAN EVER car #3 and finally the d-bag who caused this whole thing: WE'LL JUST KEEP CALLING HIM D-BAG.
D-bag CRASHES into #1 causing the utmost amount of damage, #1 hits #2, and #2 taps #3.
We all pull over to the shoulder and I get out of my car, drenched in coffee. Who knew 8 oz. could cause so much damage on a good hair/outfit day? It was unfortunate.
After a little meeting and greeting and policy # exchanging (oh and plenty of old woman complaining from car #2), we decided we wouldn't call the police since it appeared we could all drive away.
Or so we thought.
#3 leaves. #2 leaves. D-Bag leaves.
Cue Christa leaving. Keep in mind my one option of exiting is Hennepin/Dunwoody otherwise I would have been trapped on 94E until the 35W exit or heaven forbid Hiawatha. So I pull away, press the gas and think 'HMM, seems a little early for an asian teenage boy to be racing his Honda Civic.'
Oh wait, that's me. And it's not a suped up Civic, it's a cranky old Cam. which equals me. Car #1.
There's no longer any shoulder to pull over so sister christers gotta keep truckin. Nope, I didn't let that metal scraping along 394 sound deter me and I barely noticed the 50 yard bubble that seemed to surround my car for the next 2 miles since no one wanted to drive near me. (that's a lie, I noticed and panicked.)
After many tears and charlie horse style promises to God, I found Parade Stadium parking lot right by the Walker Art Center and cried my eyes out for the next 10 minutes.
Then I realized I should probably check out what that noise was. Oh, no big deal, just my entire muffler/tail pipe hanging on for dear life.
So one phone call to dad and one to work set me up for an entire day of talking to insurance claims people from 4 companies, adjusters from 2 companies, auto body repair shop girls, tow truck place, doctors office, yaddayaddayadda...needless to say I will not be answering my phone for the next...forever.
OH and I will also not be looking to the left with any sudden movements or drinking from uncovered coffee cups in moving vehicles.
The good news is: it inspired me to renew my health insurance and made me a cynical old woman with neck problems. and I got a day off of work.
But I feel I owe an explanation for breaking my post practically everyday streak.
CAR ACCIDENT.
or wreck if you prefer. or rear ending encounter.
Let me set the scene. 7:35am CST. 394 East. I merged into the right lane so I could get on 94E. Traffic was heavier than normal so we were STOPPED. I decide to take a drink from my 'mini' coffee cup I got from the elderly man who lives in 111 and makes every morning for us in our lobby.
SIP.
LOOK IN REARVIEW MIRROR.
SEE ASTRO VAN COMING AT ME AT 40 MPH. roughly.
Keep in mind I am stopped as are the 28490845 cars in front of me waiting to go through the Lowry tunnel.
cue: IMPACT.
I shut my eyes at the last second because I thought to myself, I'm going to die from a chevy astro van??? How uncool. I do not want to see this.
My life flashed before my eyes. Falling down the basement stairs in the walker. Almost drowning in the hotel pool when I was 4. Falling under the merry go round when I was in kindegarden and having Miss Shank carry me like a baby back to Elm Creek. And of course, the John Mayer concert of February 2007. (but I think about that one everyday so that's nothing new)
As the flashes came so came the splashes. Apparently a huge van hitting you at a medium speed makes your arms go up to instinctively protect your face. EVEN IF YOU'RE HOLDING COFFEE.
My entire car smells like French Vanilla. Not that I have it to smell. Abra Body Shop will be smelling it for the unknown days/weeks/forever to come.
Anyway, to paint you a pic, we'll call my car #1, the 50 year old woman inf ront of me #2, and the NICEST MAN EVER car #3 and finally the d-bag who caused this whole thing: WE'LL JUST KEEP CALLING HIM D-BAG.
D-bag CRASHES into #1 causing the utmost amount of damage, #1 hits #2, and #2 taps #3.
We all pull over to the shoulder and I get out of my car, drenched in coffee. Who knew 8 oz. could cause so much damage on a good hair/outfit day? It was unfortunate.
After a little meeting and greeting and policy # exchanging (oh and plenty of old woman complaining from car #2), we decided we wouldn't call the police since it appeared we could all drive away.
Or so we thought.
#3 leaves. #2 leaves. D-Bag leaves.
Cue Christa leaving. Keep in mind my one option of exiting is Hennepin/Dunwoody otherwise I would have been trapped on 94E until the 35W exit or heaven forbid Hiawatha. So I pull away, press the gas and think 'HMM, seems a little early for an asian teenage boy to be racing his Honda Civic.'
Oh wait, that's me. And it's not a suped up Civic, it's a cranky old Cam. which equals me. Car #1.
There's no longer any shoulder to pull over so sister christers gotta keep truckin. Nope, I didn't let that metal scraping along 394 sound deter me and I barely noticed the 50 yard bubble that seemed to surround my car for the next 2 miles since no one wanted to drive near me. (that's a lie, I noticed and panicked.)
After many tears and charlie horse style promises to God, I found Parade Stadium parking lot right by the Walker Art Center and cried my eyes out for the next 10 minutes.
Then I realized I should probably check out what that noise was. Oh, no big deal, just my entire muffler/tail pipe hanging on for dear life.
So one phone call to dad and one to work set me up for an entire day of talking to insurance claims people from 4 companies, adjusters from 2 companies, auto body repair shop girls, tow truck place, doctors office, yaddayaddayadda...needless to say I will not be answering my phone for the next...forever.
OH and I will also not be looking to the left with any sudden movements or drinking from uncovered coffee cups in moving vehicles.
The good news is: it inspired me to renew my health insurance and made me a cynical old woman with neck problems. and I got a day off of work.
The end.
oh christa....im so sorry! :-(
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