R.I.P.

#120: Ripped in Pieces

I heard a crunching sound as I parked the car. Schweppes. It was the front skirt of the car grinding on those yellow Toblerones they put on each slot to keep you from parking your car on the island or the planters - whichever suits your fancy. I hate those Toblerones. And I hate bringing this car. (Sure, it looks fabulous. I can actually hear neck bones crack as I whiz by. But that's not worth all the worry this car brings - kids scratching it, hitting some nasty pothole and getting knicks on the mags, running over a staple wire and slicing the paper-thin rubber they call wheels. Argh!) And so the one thing I don't worry about today (because I've already worried about it last night and I thought it was already over when I pulled out of the mall parking lot without a scratch), decides to happen. Just for fun, ya know.

So I back the car up and hear more grinding... and ripping of fiberglass or whatever it is they use for those skirts/bumpers (whatever.) Oh God. I don't deserve to drive this car. (My dad's going to tell me the same thing, I'm sure.)

This Chinese girl with very good fashion sense (nice purple heels) walks over to where I was kneeling and asks me what happened. How nice of her. I don't think I would've walked over to another person bawling over some car skirt. (Come on. You lower your car and put those impractical things. You probably deserve to get it ripped apart by some stray rock.) I mean, the Toblerone wasn't even stray and yet I had the mind to run over it. And while it was my brother who set up the car (as if it was only meant to live in showrooms and race tracks and not in the real world), I knew I deserved this.

So stylish Chinese girl suggests that I have the thing glued. (Got some Elmer's Glue on you?) "Then go shopping!" Uh-huh. "You go shopping, you come back, and it will still be there...so just be happy!" I loved her style and her concern but I didn't know whether to love her for the advice or just take her number and send it to some mental institution. Or maybe I should send my number instead.

Driving home, the road was full of nuts. A battered Kia cab had some wheel alignment problem and was moving sideways into my lane. No. Into the car I was driving! At the Skyway, running at 120kph, this Crosswind on my right side, decides to suddenly switch to my lane... while I was still very much using it. And while another vehicle was using the lane at my left. I cringed and waited for his bronze body paint to be united to my green body paint. That would've been the perfect ending to this day. The perfect ending for me... err, of me as well.