No parking in the driveway
After I graduated from high school, I bought my Grand Am. It’s a great car and it’s been wonderful to me, despite the time I crashed into a tree. But that’s not what this post is about, so I’ll move on.
The same year I bought my car, every single member of my family also had their own vehicle. Five people. Five vehicles. Despite the long length of our driveway, we three kids had to park on the street. Why? Simply because Monte didn’t like us parking in "his" driveway or the potential hassle of rearranging vehicles. He did, however, reluctantly allow my mom to park in the driveway. I mean, she owned the driveway, too, right?
Anyhow, when I moved back in with Monte last July, he ruled once again that my permanent parking spot was in front of our house on the street. A friend of mine had his truck damaged by a Diversified bus because he parked on the street, but Monte didn’t care. He still didn't let me park in the driveway.
A few months ago, our across-the-street neighbor had her car stolen. The thief rolled the car down our neighbor’s steeply inclined driveway and hit my car. The damage was minor: a small chunk of my wheel well fell off. However, to replace the whole side panel because of a damaged wheel well would set me back a few thousand dollars.
Just roll with the punches, Nicole. Just roll.
Tonight I was on my computer at home working and I heard a loud crunch and my car alarm start to go off. All I could think was, “Fuck. Not again.”
Yes, again. Some newfie was dropping her kid off at our across-the-street neighbor’s house and failed to notice my car in her mirrors when she reversed down the driveway. I stood in the dark in our front bay window and stared at the flashing alarm lights on my car and the newfie in the yellow mid-sized SUV pulling into my driveway.
Click here to see pictures of my damaged car.
Upon giving me her insurance information shortly thereafter, she said, “I don’t know how I didn’t see your car behind me with those flashing lights!”
I said, “They started flashing after you hit it! It’s an alarm, dummy!” Well, no, I didn’t say that. But oh man did I want to!
I have to give the flake credit for actually stopping and taking responsibility for her mistake. I appreciate that this time it was an honest person who hit me, not some bum car thief.
Hmmm... I wonder if Monte will let me park in the driveway now?
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” That’s the sound of my dad laughing at my thought and crushing any hope I have of ever enjoying the luxury of a driveway.
Just roll with the punches, Nicole. And don’t park in the driveway.