Sunday, February 26

For those of you who care: My Yesterday.

I remember yesterday vividly; I remember it like it was yesterday.

Yesterday was good. I remember I was psyched because I saw Chuck Norris on an infomercial for the Total Gym. His presence gave me energy. I used this energy to complete various chores. I wrote emails to potential employers, I researched places to work, I looked up the translations for various Italian phrases, I even washed my dog with nothing but flea shampoo and determination. I even continued my trend of doing the dishes, laundry, keeping the house tidy, and setting necessary things on fire. Even if you think otherwise, I'm not really a pyro; I burned only things like wood to keep warm, trash to erase from our presence, and the houses of my enemies.
Yesterday was good because I was going to see my friends from Alfred like James, Josh, Mark, Nick, Brian and even Derek and Bob, who I hadn't seen in a year-ish. So I did my version of home work, then left my forsaken house.

After driving for a while, jamming to myself sing Barry Manilow, a revelation hit me: ice. I'm kidding. My revelation was that today was not a good day to go to Alfred--it was a good day to die!! Immediately after discovering this, I hit a patch of ice on a turn, did some excellent driving maneuvers, and found myself in a ditch two seconds later. I was like, "this sucks, I'm in a ditch and I can't drive out of here. Shit, I'm gunna have to get a tow truck. Shit, I'm not gunna make it to Alfred. Shit, I'll have to file insurance and up go my premiums." So I got out and looked at my car and all that was wrong was some chippage of the front and back bumper. So I called my dad, after figuring out the wording to best reveal my hidden surprise for him. It was something like this: "Hey dad. I um. I'm in a ditch and I can't get out." "Did you total the car?" "No, but there's some damage to the bumper" "Shit. Okay, call your mom and we'll be down. where are you and blablabla?" Some guy pulled over and tried to tow me out but that failed. A policeman showed up. Triple A showed up. My parents showed up. It was a party. But at this party there was no alcohol--only police reports, raised insurance premiums and proud parents. Worse than that, it was really frickin' cold out. It grew so cold that there was snow on the ground and on my jacket. It sucked.

So we drove back up to my house which was like 30 minutes. My mom was doing the speed limit which was way faster than I had been going. I was probably going 45mph, knowing I could be going faster, and with a knowing determination that it would take me a lot longer to get to Alfred with these conditions. Then again, I had been driving unknowingly on completely bald back tires. As in most cases, baldness was not a good thing.

The triple A guy got stuck in our driveway. We congratulated him and offered him a cup of hot chocolate, but he declined. My dad got the tractor out and I called for Mr. Rose's support. By the time Mr. Rose got there, my dad had towed the tow truck back down our driveway. The car is still across from our house in the park. That guy did not get a tip. Well, we told him to try hitting the gas next time, but he didn't strike me as the kind of guy who finished Canandaigua Academy high school. Maybe he'll learn from this experience, but it's not the kind of experience you put on your resume.

I didn't get to go to Alfred, but I'll never forget yesterday. The car is still across the street with a snapped axle and no doubt a $5,000-6,000 gash (that's American, not lovely Canadian) in my dad's bank account that we can't afford, yet I still found some good in all of this: we will save on our gas expenses over the next week or so without a car. And that's a hefty bundle! Actually, as I think of this, my dad said he'd try to get the old 89' Civic insured and back on the road ASAP. Shit. Looks like we won't be saving on gas afterall. But if there's one thing we take away from this it's that my dad learns a lesson: never lend me the car ever again.

At least I'm not getting owned by a goat.

so that's what happened yesterday,
update: We have no insurance on that car somehow because we got too many skills and we like to take chances. The '89 is on the road and fixing this car could be done for between $500-1000 Canadian, which means it's practically nothing. Looks like it wasn't as bad as we thought! And Kate, I never used the word wussy. You're insane. Ha.


Blogger Kate undoubtedly said...

you know, if you didn't think things like "that's American, not wussy Canadian" you wouldn't have gotten in that accident. God is smiting you for your shitty attitude. HA. You deserve a raise in premiums.

6:42 PM  

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In the year 2006 I resolve to:
Blame Canada.