Le Morte d'Car: Part 1

Once I was care-free, light-hearted person, frolicking from work to home to rock climbing in an old but reliable car. Now, as I write this, the cares of the world press in upon me and in the future dark clouds loom ominously. Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon, my car lies slain upon the heights. This is the story of how it happened.

Davis (my boyfriend) and I had arranged for him to visit me on a particular Sunday. He was to meet me at church and afterwards we would spend the afternoon hanging out in my apartment. I had, unfortunately, lost my voice around that time so introducing him to my church friends was a something of a struggle. They were very friendly and introduced themselves despite the adversity. 

We decided not to attend the fellowship lunch afterwards, owing to the fact that I couldn't talk, and set out for my apartment. Davis following me in his car. Now, alas, comes the unfortunate part. I have supplied you will a helpful diagram of the crash. I am represented by the blue car and Davis by the Green. I drew it on this cool site if any of you feels a desire to spend your free time recreating accidents. 

 I was going faster than I should have been and I stopped faster than I should have and suddenly there was a CRASH  and Davis' car slammed into the back of mine. We pulled over to the side of the road and got out to assess the damage. His right headlight was all over the road and his tire was completely shredded. My back corner was crushed and the corresponding tire did not seem to be in the first bloom of health. 

Because of the glass all over the road and the fact that neither of our cars were drive-able we called the police and, as people throughout the decades have been wont to do, we both called our parents. Between the parental units, the police, and AAA we soon had both the cars on tow trucks, and were sitting in the cab of the one towing my car. I was even able to rescue my most prize possessions including my rock climbing gear, the sushi for lunch, and one of my favorite pairs of jeans. The tow truck driver engaged us in friendly conversation and assured us that, in his opinion, both cars would be totaled.

Davis' car, unfortunately I didn't get a picture of mine

Once we reached that haven of warmth, the apartment, we were left to sort out what to do. Davis had to get back to Connecticut somehow and I had to get to work. After much discussion, online research, and soul searching we decided that the best plan was for Davis to get rental car the next morning and drive it back to CT. It was similar in price to a bus ticket and he would be able to get to work for most of the day. Since the rental car places all closed early on Sunday and the only bus yet to leave would arrive at four am in an extremely sketchy area we decided that the only thing for him to do was to spend the night in my living room. (Note: normally Davis does not sleep in my living-room or any other part of my apt, but, alas, in this case we had little choice).

The next day we wakened at the unearthly hour of 6 in the morning to catch the 6:57 bus, which runs between my apt and a station several blocks from work. It was a cold and dark experience. Once at work we suborned Deb, a co-worker, to drive us to the rental car location. After a passionate farewell to Davis, Deb and I drove off again, reposing in the confidence that he would find his way home. We were suddenly sundered from  that confidence when we received a phone call from Davis. Apparently rental car locations will not trust you with the responsibly of a car unless you have a credit card in your own name, and alas, all Davis possessed was a lowly debit card. After several possibly illegal U-turns we got Davis back in the car and back to my work.  

The next bus out was at 3 pm so there was nothing left for Davis to do but plant himself in the extra chair in my office and wait for the clock to strike three. Almost as soon as we arrived another coworker, Greg, who is known for his mistrust Obama, young people, and especially "Libs", stopped by to greet us. I introduced Davis and gave a brief explanation of why he was awkwardly whiling away his day in my cubical. Greg found all this extremely amusing, and sauntered off. We soon heard him expounding the story to various coworkers down the hall. His version included a fair amount of speculation about the dangers of texting and driving, and the untrustworthiness of young people, such as ourselves. (Note: neither of us was texting when the unfortunate incident occurred).


I decided it was time I found out what had become of my car so I called up the collision center which had taken charge of it and asked what the status was. The mechanic replied with: "I don't know if there's really a status on the car besides the fact that I thought I should probably find out who it belongs to." Apparently they couldn't do anything until the insurance company sent a minion to assess the damage. There was nothing to do but wait and wonder about the fates of our cars.

Finally the time of parting came and Davis was safely ensconced in a greyhound heading south. My boss was kind enough to take me home from work and another coworker offered to pick me up where I to call him in the morning. Now all this happened two days before I was supposed to return to my parents so that the whole family could drive out to Kansas. I therefore bought a bus ticket so that after work the next day I could return the the comforting parental home. 

I began to gather together those belonging I would need for the foray into the west. This led to a conundrum. That fall I poured many hours into the creation of a stain-glass window as a Christmas present for the parents. As fortune would have it I did not possess a suitcase large enough to hold such a treasure. In the end I wrapped it in newspaper and carried the thing. 

The coworker who had offered me a ride did not answer his phone the next morning so I returned to the shady world of mass transportation, this time carrying all the baggage I would need for my journey across the country. We arrived at the bus-stop closest to my work, but I still had a fair number a blocks to traverse. At this point I also discovered that the suitcase I had chosen had a tragic flaw: It's handle did not extend so it could not be gently wheeled to and fro. I would have to carry it the half mile to my office. Never having been one for exercising needlessly, I pulled a t-shirt out and tied it around the crippled handle.

Picture, if you will, me, walking down the busiest street in my city, rain pouring down, an oversize blue hat engulfing my head, clothed in a red pea-coat, in one hand holding a 3 foot stained glass window, dragging a suitcase by a brightly colored t-shirt wound around its handle. This was certainly not my finest moment, but I did make it to my place of work. And, after a day full of the joys and pains of the test engineer, I weighed anchor and boarded a bus towards New York, still not knowing the fate of my car.