My fender bender guardian angel

I think that maybe when my Opa died last fall, he left me one of his guardian angels - his fender bender guardian angel.

OK, so I've only had three fender benders (all extremely mild!!) in what - more than seven years of driving? I'd say that's not bad, pretty good if you know how bad people drive in Edmonton or in a farmtown.

All three of the times that I have hit someone it's been when I've been going slow, and I've always hit the nicest of the nicest of people. I also think that wearing the scrubs and having the ponytail-farm-girl look and having a pitiful car helps too. (which was the case in all three fender benders)

Anyways, I hit someone yesterday on the way to work. He stopped to turn left, but because he stopped dead and I had just turned onto the highway and was accelerating, I didn't see him. So long story short, I slammed on the brakes (I never follow too close, so I went from like 110 down to 30) and bumped him as he was turning the corner. My first thought was, "Thank God it's an old truck!" He was driving an 86 Mazda truck with a topper, and his bumper was solid. So was mine - it crumpled a little, but now it just matches the rest of the car. (Oh, it hurts me to be driving an ugly car everyday, and to hurt my beautiful Belle, but I have other priorities - like paying off student loans, etc.) He was a really nice guy - didn't ask for insurance or anything, and he was way more concerned about how I was doing than about how his truck had just suffered a punch. His name was Medford - he was such a nice guy, in his mid40s with his oily coveralls on, I just thought how lucky am I to hit the best person on the road possible? I could have hit someone with an attitude or a Jag (like the second time in seven years). He kept saying "Are you sure you're OK? Man, I feel bad, your car is in worse shape than mine." To which I replied, "It's one of the reasons I keep driving this car. Don't worry about it." "Well, it was nice to meet you..."

And, to top off the "Thank God" fest and string that I was on yesterday, my brother is going to put on a new bumper from the old Oldsmobile; Medford is going to buy a new bumper and I'll pay him for it so that I feel better about smashing his in, and I still made it to work on time.

thought digress - I always find it strange, but I can never sware when I'm in a crisis. It just doesn't come out. My thoughts are more like, "Oh, well. At least..." or "OK, time to deal with this." (the four letter word - one is all it takes for me to feel better - usually doesn't come until the end of the day when I've got nothing better to do than vent) After work in the parking lot I looked at my new bumper style, laughed, let it out, got back in the car, and went grocery shopping.