A Minor Dent

Back in the year 2000, my parents were generous enough to buy me a brand new car to junk around in. It was nothing too special because, well, I was 17 years old. Almost ten years later and I am not a good driver. You can imagine how I started out!

The little car was perfect for whipping around town. It got me to and from whatever practices I had, to friends' houses, and to wherever I needed to go. It wasn't winning any beauty contests, but I didn't need it to. It served it's purpose. In fact, I think I was pretty lucky to have a brand new car as a teenager.

This upped our family car total to four. One for each of us. Dad was blazing around in his new Volvo SUV. My mother had just gotten a safe and sturdy Pathfinder, and Nick had the first model edition of the Honda CR-V.

Really, though, in all actuality, my father was overseeing five cars. His mother's car had to be included in there, as I have long considered her my parent's third child. She brought my father into this world with the belief that parents have children so that they can be taken care of when they get older. She has held my father to that standard every moment of his life. Being the artful man that he is, he has passed much of the "child" caring onto my mother. However, financially, she is his.

The fifth family car was a tad different. It was what Grandma picked in 1996 as her hot new ride. Mind you, she did have a budget, as my father did not want to drop $30,000 on a car that is technically not his.  Can't really blame him for that. So, my grandmother scooted around town in her Mitisubishi hatchback. I'm not even sure if it had a name.

Of course my father liked to test it out on occasion, make sure it was in good enough shape. While him and Nick were joy riding in it one day, they slammed into a deer and totaled the car. Nobody was injured, but Nick was somewhat scarred as he ended up face-to-face with the dead deer head. Only the cracked windshield separated them. So, the precession line of cars began. Grandma got my good old reliable first car. Nick got a new Honda Accord, still for no reason that I can see. I got the Pathfinder. Mom got a new a BMW 3-series. None of us could really complain about this occurrence. I think even Nick, as scarred as he was, liked the new arrangement.

Since those days, we have all had a few more cars. For some reason, cars come and go in my family like disposable contact lenses, switched out every two weeks. But, there has been one mainstay through the years; my grandmother's hand-me-down. She only dares to drive within a 5 mile radius, so there isn't too much damage she can do. Or so we have always believed.

She called frantic today, claiming someone had hit her car in the parking lot of a local convenient store, Stewart's. She spewed out every swear word in the book. Every degrading name you can imagine for a human being came out of her mouth. It was quite an earful. For what? Very minimal damage. A wet cloth with soap actually removed most of the scratches on the back fender. The worst part of all of this for my grandmother was how incredibly embarrassing it would be to drive around a car that had a dent in it. Did you see the Mitsubishi above? Yeah, a dent is embarrassing!

I found it funny to hear what she had to say about whoever hit her car. I remember about five years ago, a friend of mine saw her in the supermarket parking lot. He said she tried to fit into a tight parking spot. She hit the car in the spot next to her, backed up, and went to a different spot. Sounds pretty similar to what could have possibly happened here!

Speaking to my mother about it, it has come up that she may have actually backed into something without realizing it. There is a good possibility that the a$$*@le, m@*er-f^#@er that hit her car in the parking lot, may not even exist. I believe this raises another, more important question. Should she be on the road? At 87, and possibly hitting things without even realizing it, is it a good idea? Probably not.

The problem is she likes the way I drive the best out of my family members. She feels safe with me behind the wheel. Get rid of her license, and my life as a senior citizen chauffeur begins. Until Jeff is around that is. He, of course, would be her top pick. I can't say I blame her!