Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Smash Magnet

I'm convinced I'm a "Smash Magnet" and by golly, I would rather be a "Babe Magnet" or any other kind of magnet than what I am destined to be.
When Hubby bought the spanking new, blemish-free,  silver Volvo station-wagon, I was thrilled until I heard those fatal words, "This will be our last car, Honey. We'll drive it until we can't drive it anymore."  I think Hubby meant until we're too old to drive. I don't think he meant when the car starts to look like a battle zone.
It really isn't my fault that someone spitefully gouged one side of the car with their keys. Or, someone else ran their grocery cart into the Volvo's rear end. Or that someone actually raced away when they backed into the Volvo, causing a caved-in rear corner. It's almost as if the "Car gods" were having a field day, chortling and jabbing each other in glee as I carefully drive away on my errands--in my repainted scrapes, with carefully patched wounds on the Volvo. Even if I parked miles away from anyone else, the car will have obtained new scratches and dents when I return. Honest to god--all those times were not my fault!   
Two weeks ago, I made it home without a scratch, until the concrete wall of the underground parkade  reached over and grabbed the Volvo. There was no one to blame except "Yours truly" and I was so angry, you could fry doughnuts in my "sizzle." How the heck did I ever do something so stupid? The poor car really looked like it came from a fierce battle and lost--deep scratches and a large dent along the length of the passenger side, that's the right side. A phone call to the insurance adjuster and a visit to the body shop followed.  It didn't help that the body-shop guy took one look and exclaimed, "Holy crap, that's really bad!" and with a gleam of $$$ in his eyes, started tallying the damage.
Darn if I wasn't loaned a Toyota Corolla that had just been returned by a person who had dented, scratched and mashed the front. The body-shop guy told me with a straight face, "We didn't fix it yet as it's the only loaner we have left." Huh!  I knew it! My one-time only, "my-fault" accident, has labeled me a "Smash Magnet," so if by chance, someone runs into this Loaner car with their grocery cart, car and/or car keys, this car already needs to be repaired.
If you ever spot this silver Toyota Corolla in the parking lot, please steer clear of it. Blindfold your shopping carts as they are attracted to silver Corollas. And watch those keys--their pointy ends have this need to give silver Corollas a deep "caress."
Meanwhile, I am beginning to become fond of this battle-weary Corolla--it reminds me of my beloved Volvo, still recovering in the car hospital. . .

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