and that's why they're called accidents


Last weekend I managed to smash up my car. I'm sure it was partially my fault, though I mainly blame the 90/94 split...I don't remember what I was talking about when it happened, but I do remember that I was looking at Carmen and gesturing wildly, no doubt probably gossiping. Not the point. We were all fine, but as you can see my car is not.

I was totally shaken up and on the verge of tears (yep, verge. this didn't make me cry but parades, circuses and singing "happy birthday" does). While everything was going on, I was amazed at how nice people were to me. I honestly expected to get yelled at throughout the whole experience, but not once did one person make me feel bad. The cops were kind and spoke slowly, the EMT's praised me on my car choice, the tow truck dude giggled at my stupidity regarding cars, and the people I hit stood around and patiently made small talk with me.

Chicago public servents were doing their jobs that day and doing them well.


Tom said...

I'm surprised you weren't riding your bike, highway or not.

Tim said...

This was actually Kate's post. The car will be missed. I sincerely hope that it's replacement (yes, it's totaled) has seat-warmers and a sunroof.