We enjoyed a restful Easter weekend at my parents house. We didn’t really have much planned which was perfectly fine with me. Play with the kids. Work on Princess’s scrapbooks. Back into my brother’s car. Ya know restful relaxing stuff like that.
Let me back up. (Oh the irony)
It was Saturday and my brother Jim and wife Leana came over to my parent’s house for brunch. We enjoyed a great meal and then decided to veg out and watch Marley and Me. I had already seen the movie and so about half way through both babies laid down for a nap and I decided to run to the store to pick up a few things. A pretty sweater for Belle. Chocolate. Maybe a new outfit for me. Necessities.
Being the idiot that I am I didn’t even look behind me when I pulled out of my parent’s driveway. Because there are NEVER any cars parked behind our vehicle. Oh except this time. BAM, backed right into my brother’s car. I sat there for a few minutes wondering if I should just flee the scene. That probably wouldn’t be very nice. Plus he probably knows how to find me. Don’t tell anyone but when I was in college I backed into someone and I did flee the scene. They weren’t in the car and I just barely tapped them and there was no damage done. Classy, huh.
Unfortunately this time there was damage done. The right corner of my bumper was smashed in and the left corner of his front fender – or is it bumper – was cracked. Hubby was out geocaching and so I called my Daddy and he said we didn’t have to call the police man because it was on private property. Learn something new every day! I just had to call the insurance on Monday and they’ll take care of it along with raising my rates.
Although I was exhausted from all the bumper smashing commotion I decided I might as well still go to the store. I hop on the interstate and after driving for about a mile I hear this very loud scary noise like something exploded in the back of my van. I look in my mirrors but can’t see anything. I decide I better pull off at the next exit and investigate.
Well ya don’t see that every day now do ya? It was actually kinda funny and I might have laughed if I didn’t feel so awful and hadn’t already started crying. I call Hubby and thankfully he had just finished walking 18.6 miles to find a geocache – WHY might I ask?
Anyway, as I waited three people stopped to see if I was ok. Not three people in one vehicle. It was actually seven people total in three vehicles. I heard things like this:
“Are you ok?”
“You lost your bumper!” (What! I had no idea)
“You’re not from ’round here are ya?” (What does that mean? I thought. Then realized they were referring to my license plate.)
“Do you need help?”
“Do you need help?”
“Can we help you?”
As it turns out I didn’t need help because my Hubby was on the way to rescue me. But I’m glad to know that if I would have needed help, help would have been there.
Hubby finally got there and we ended up having to call my dad anyway because we had no tools in the van. We had Goldfish crackers, a Dora video, a couple of books, army men and some day old french fries. But no screwdriver. Unfortunately my dad didn’t have the right size or kind of screwdriver or something like that. So Hubby used his manly strong hands – the ones that had just been waxed – to pull the dead bumper off the van and not even ruin anything in the process.
We have yet to get a new bumper. I think Hubby’s looking for one that we don’t have to ship from across the country. The good thing is that our van is now very recognizable. Like this morning at church. I started to walk towards a van that I thought was ours. I said to Hubby, “oops, I thought that was our van!” And Hubby said, “Nope, ours is the one without the bumper.”