I'm a terrible driver. Well, not a terrible driver. I'm actually a very good driver when I'm paying attention. But I have been known to be a bit absent minded. My attention strays sometimes. Today was one of those days. As I was driving to the public library tonight, I pulled up to a stop sign behind a gigantic tow truck.
I was fairly lost -- I live in what is quite possibly the most impossible town to navigate on EARTH. A coffee shop that I had never noticed in this part of town caught my eye. I apparently turned my head so far around looking at it that my right leg jumped right off the brake.
"EEREREEEERRR!!!" *imagine the noise made by Harry in Dumb and Dumber when he asks, "Hey Lloyd, wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?*
Yup, that's what it sounds like when your car slides under the hind hydraulic lift of a tow truck. Goldie's nose slid right under that big fat truck, leaving her pretty paint and Dodge decal with it.
Tow truck man slowly gets out of his truck.
"Did you just hit me?" The man was seriously bewildered. Like, who hits an enormous tow truck? You really accidentally just 'didn't see' several tons of metal on wheels in front of you?
Yes, sir, I saw your tow truck. I just didn't know you had the big stupid metal thing hanging out a foot behind you! Or that I was that close to hitting it when I started gawking at the coffee shop.
He got back in his truck and turned on his lights. And by lights, I don't mean headlights. I mean his cop-like siren-lights to signal to all those passing by I was a raging idiot who managed to hit a tow truck. Then he called his buddy, who was also driving a tow truck. He pulled up behind me and turned his lights on, too. Then another friend came by and stopped for a cigarette. No kidding. I wanted to DIE.
None of them even tried to laugh at the pathetic jokes I was telling to make myself feel better. Then Mr. Tow Truck driver called pretty much EVERYONE in his phone book to say:
“Hey, I just got hit. I’ll be a little late...
“Ya, I just got rear-ended. Yes, rear-ended by some car. No really, some girl just ran into my truck, man. Ya, hit it.
"No man, my truck’s just fine. Ya, I’m right on the corner of XXX and XXX (if I had known the street names, I would have just looked the dang coffee shop up later). Yes, I’m in my tow truck. She RAN INTO THE TOW TRUCK.”
Ok, he only had that conversation twice. But a shake is still salt on an open wound – it need not be poured in mass amounts to hurt.
Anyway, while the three tow truck men smoked cigarettes and pretended like I wasn’t trying to make pleasant conversation to ease my mind, the cop finally showed up. We didn’t need to file an accident report – as tow truck man said, we all agreed it was my fault and his truck was just fine.
We exchanged information anyway, just in case (in case of what, I don’t know…). I handed him my business card. He looked at me, again bewildered. ‘How does a girl stupid enough to run into the back of a tow truck get a job important enough to have a business card?’ He didn’t have to say it. I knew. Whatever.
I finally got out of there. Relieved the experience was over, angry at myself for being so careless, thankful it was just a minor little accident with nothing but cosmetic damage to Goldie. I was calm, the situation was under control. It was nothing to ruin my day.
Then I still couldn’t find the library. I drove in three circles, passing the scene of the crime twice more. I’ve been to the library several times and know exactly where it is. They apparently moved the blessed thing just to make me mad.
THAT is when I started bawling like a baby. Then I passed the cop who had came to the accident. Conveniently, we passed right under a street light so he could see the floods of tears pouring down my face. I’m sure he thought I was awesome, too.
I finally found the library. Right where it was the last time I gleefully left it with my arms filled with books. There was no glee this time. I got here five minutes before closing time.
So here I sit, in a dark library parking lot to use their wi-fi, feeling like a complete creep – even more of a creep than when I went to Bob Evans to eat by myself and use their free wi-fi.
Moral of the story: I have got to choke up the money to get my own Internet service.