If you have been suffering from metaphor deprivation, you have come to the right place.
A few weeks ago, backing out of my driveway, I forgot a small thing. To look. Which, normally, would not be a problem on this low-traffic street. But at that moment a big brown UPS truck was making a delivery at a neighbor's house, and we met. It could have been worse. The truck's left front panel was crunched while the rear-mounted spare tire absorbed most of my impact.
Not to worry, said the UPS supervisor who was summoned to the scene. It was only fiberglass, he said; we have a mechanic who can pop it out. Are you okay, he asked. I was grateful for their kindness; no doubt, this was my fault.
Because the damage did not affect any function, and I'm considering trading in the car come spring, the skewed tire mount remains, largely unnoticed unless until examined closely.
Then, today. I emerged from my morning coffee spot to find a note on the windshield. It was the name and phone number of a witness who recorded the license plate number of someone who smashed into my front right bumper.
I called him, we met, I thanked him. I filed a report with the police, and within an hour I had photos, the hit-and-run driver had been issued a ticket, and now it's up to me to contact my insurance agent and, perhaps, have this repair made. But this, too, is only cosmetic, though the damage is obvious. Still, it could have been worse.
So, these are the days. I feel banged up from all sides, though most wouldn't notice, most of the time. I'm still functioning, even if I can't see where I'm going, and I get hit just standing still.
And I will try to get this blog back on track.
Candace
A few weeks ago, backing out of my driveway, I forgot a small thing. To look. Which, normally, would not be a problem on this low-traffic street. But at that moment a big brown UPS truck was making a delivery at a neighbor's house, and we met. It could have been worse. The truck's left front panel was crunched while the rear-mounted spare tire absorbed most of my impact.
Not to worry, said the UPS supervisor who was summoned to the scene. It was only fiberglass, he said; we have a mechanic who can pop it out. Are you okay, he asked. I was grateful for their kindness; no doubt, this was my fault.
Because the damage did not affect any function, and I'm considering trading in the car come spring, the skewed tire mount remains, largely unnoticed unless until examined closely.
Then, today. I emerged from my morning coffee spot to find a note on the windshield. It was the name and phone number of a witness who recorded the license plate number of someone who smashed into my front right bumper.
I called him, we met, I thanked him. I filed a report with the police, and within an hour I had photos, the hit-and-run driver had been issued a ticket, and now it's up to me to contact my insurance agent and, perhaps, have this repair made. But this, too, is only cosmetic, though the damage is obvious. Still, it could have been worse.
So, these are the days. I feel banged up from all sides, though most wouldn't notice, most of the time. I'm still functioning, even if I can't see where I'm going, and I get hit just standing still.
And I will try to get this blog back on track.
Candace
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