Please tell me I’m in the middle of a nightmare.
Those were the words that tumbled out of my mouth when I saw my car on Sunday morning. I was (and still am) in a state of shock. I had been awake for two minutes before my flatmate started knocking on the door to my bedroom. Looking at my alarm clock, I was in half a mind to tell him to kindly fuck off. That was before he mentioned that my car had been hit in the middle of the night.
I don’t know about you, but my car is my baby, and hearing that was enough to take me from half-awake to full on energiser-bunny awake. I jumped out of bed and through the front door in a matter of seconds. I was greeted by a car that looked like this:
I don’t know about you, but that definitely wasn’t what I expected to see. My jaw dropped, tears welled up in my eyes and my heart started racing.
I believe I saw red for a second or two as well. It looked like someone had tried to drive through the middle of my car. The back of my car had been wrapped around my tyres. That takes some serious speed. Not only that, but they had managed to push my car onto the front of my flatmate’s car, and onto the road.
I woke up expecting my car to have a slight dent in it or a massive scratch and a missing wing mirror. I did not expect this to happen. My car was parked well within the lines, whilst I slept in my house. I did not hear the horrific noise as another car collided with it. I did not expect the woman to drive off without notifying someone-anyone-about the hazard that she had created.
This car was my baby, and to see that he had been violated so thoroughly is just upsetting. However, given the scale of the damage, it could have been a lot worse. I could have been in the car at the time, someone could have been on the road, the other driver could have been injured, or a cat could have been on the road. I am just grateful that no one else (that I know of) was hurt. No harm, no foul.
The woman who did this came back to my house, and confessed. She was a complete wreck. A tiny bit of my anger faded away when I saw how badly she was trembling. This woman was beyond terrified, and with good reason.
My car is written off.
Her car is written off (or so she says).
She has no insurance.
She fled the scene afterwards.
She is definitely in the wrong; completely and 100% in the wrong.
I am a big believer in karma; what goes around, comes around; what you put into the universe comes back three-fold to you. As much as I wanted to rant and rave at this woman, I didn’t see the point in it. It would have made me look just as bad as her. Cool, calm, and collected is the way to be.
That being said, I am not made of stone. I am not some cold shell of a woman. Sunday marked the end, and I did shed a tear
or ten when I watched my parents tow him away. I did wince when they cut into his skin like it was nothing more than paper. I did shudder at every groaning protest that rose from his body.
He was my baby and I’m going to miss that car more than I care to admit.
I loved him, and it’s a little hard to accept that today really was the end.