The Streak Is Over

I am not the most graceful person in the world. I have been known to break a glass or two.....to marvel at bruises and wonder how they got there....to bump into cubicles at work....and even to walk into a chair that had been in the same position for about 7 years, thus breaking my toe and having to wear a big ugly shoe brace for 6 weeks. And then, 2 years later, to stub the same toe on the same chair.

But, for the last 16 years, I have managed to never - not once - damage my car more than a slight scratch. Sixteen years ago, I backed up and ran into a telephone pole. Panicking, I put the car in drive, heard a scrape, put it in reverse, heard another scrape, put it in drive - scraaaaape, put it in reverse and floored it. Not something I am proud of, but I hadn't had my license long and, like I said, I panicked. Today, all you have to do is replace that telephone pole with a sharp metal plate on a post about 8 inches above the ground and you know *exactly* what happened at about 9AM outside of (of course) a Starbucks. **Oh yeah...you should probably also replace the 76 Oldsmobile Cutlass Convertible with a BMW that we like to call my "I Got Out Of The Hospital Alive" car.** Turn right....scrape....go backward....scrape, scrape, scrape, panic, floor it. I never even saw the sharp plate (don't even ask why it was there (who cares) or why I didn't see it (no clue)). I raced down Peachtree late to a meeting but just HAD to stop to see what had caused that God-awful noise back there. Oh. My. God. Racer X had clearly come up beside me and pushed the button that made the blades pop out of his tires which then drug a giant gaping hole down the side of my car. Oh. My. Not-Nice-Word. God. I called Yancey all hysterical, and once I described it in terms that he could understand (he doesn't know from Speed Racer) I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Now, I have had all day to ruminate over this, feel nauseous and cry some more. And, I have come to the conclusion that all of that emotion comes from 3 things: 1) Having to tell someone that I had wrecked my car 2) Hurt pride and 3) Mortal embarrassment. That's it. Nothing else. The car is mine and it's paid for. I wasn't drunk. I didn't hurt anyone. We'll figure out the repair cost. I have taken care of #1 by telling absolutely *everyone* I know. Get it out in the open, let people laugh and say, "Holy Crap - I've NEVER seen anything like that - it's like a little tiny tornado hit your car and bent steel!!" But (2 and (3 have haunted me today. Perhaps you don't feel as proud or embarrassed at 16 as you do at 38. Well, that's ridiculous - of course you do. Introspection over.

Yancey just told me that I am overreacting - right after I freaked out that a snake or a chipmunk would get into that hole in the running board thingy and crawl into my engine and either die or pop out of my A/C vent. I agree that I am probably overreacting, but I'm just sayin'....that's how I feel about all of this. I don't have any profound reasoning behind it, but I thought if I put it out there, someone might understand (or take pity).

Wine has taken a backseat to champagne, Thai food and a movie tonight (thanks Yancey, you always know how to make a girl forget mortal embarrassment - unless, of course, you caused it). Unless someone's car gets Racer-X'd in Iron Man, I may be OK tomorrow.

PS - Why does a days-away-from-38-year-old woman still have to look up how to spell embarrassment?