Oh, yeah, the car accidents...

I swear, I'm not making this up. I had two car accidents last Saturday, both minor. One was my fault, one was the other person's fault. I was driving Teen Parent to work, misjudged the distance between me and a crooked-parked Jeep, and knocked off one of their mirrors with one of mine. Nobody was around, so I left my number on the windshield. The owner's boyfriend called saying that the owner was too upset to talk to me. Wimp.

Anyway, he and I negotiated. I asked him to get three estimates, and I'd pay the amount of the lowest one, regardless of where they decided to get it fixed. I now owe them $225 to replace their mirror.

No point in bothering with insurance. I have it, but I must keep the deductible at $1000 in order to be able to pay the premiums, which means this repair wouldn't be covered.

An hour later I went to see my friend at her house. She got a text message while we were in her dining room that said "I hit the car parked in your driveway. I have to go to the bank, be right back" from her tenant. We ran to the picture window to see my once-silver car wearing a huge blue scrape from passenger door to rear wheel well.

The tenant's boyfriend screeched up in his shiny new car before the tenant made it back from her errands. Hmmm, these boyfriends certainly seem handy to have around. By this time, my ever-practical friend and I had decided to try to clean it up ourselves by rubbing the blue paint away with rags and baking soda. It was helping, but the scratches were still there, and ugly.

Ah, why worry about a little ugly?

Anyway, this particular boyfriend's folks own a car dealership so he leapt in like a knight in shining armor with promises to fix my car. He kept asking me if that was ok. I kept telling him it was very kind, and generous, and yes, I'd take him up on it, but he still seemed to expect me to be angry, so he upped the ante by offering a full detail for free.

His girlfriend, who had by this time made it back from the bank, was standing with her fists pressed to her mouth, looking tearful. I patted her shoulder, told her that no real harm was done, and it's not like she aimed for the car, but she was still all rattled. She looked confused, and I wondered why everybody seemed to expect me to be mean about something that wasn't intentional and could be set right without much inconvenience.

I dropped my car off at boyfriend's folk's dealership today, and they gave me a ride to work. At 5pm, the car was delivered to me with every little ding and scratch obliterated, even those caused by other mishaps. The whole interior had been cleaned and shampooed, the exterior buffed to a gleam. I can see my reflection in the fenders. It looks brand new again. Even the tires are shiny.

I needed that bit of sunshine....a beautifully clean, good-smelling, scratch-free car.

To get it into such condition, I would have had to pay a detailer oh, about $225. I guess the Universe wanted to make sure I got my money's worth for knocking off somebody's mirror.