Bashing Cars and Slipping on Ice

Yesterday’s post was about Sayulita, Mexico, where it’s balmy, dusty, hot and there is no snow. This week made me realize that despite my fantasies about spending some time in that beach town, for now I’m definitely in New England and it’s January.

First, I walloped a stop sign while making a turn onto my road during Monday’s snowstorm. I think driving a four-wheel drive with big tires makes you forget that you still have to stop…and as that slow motion accident occurred, me sliding, slowly, right into that stop sign, I realized the folly of my short-lived security. Jumping out, I see that I’ve merely ripped the auxiliary fender off my black work truck, plastic accessories that look cool but don’t do that much. So I shrug and decide not to worry about it.

Then this morning, I load up for a dump run , complete with the Christmas tree piled high in the back of the truck. Jumping in, I zoom backwards …. crunch! I’ve hit my son in law’s Honda, parked in the driveway behind me. No, we’re not in Mexico, and it’s not warm, it’s freakin’ freezing. I meet a friend who I haven’t seen for a while outside the cafe…he says that on Christmas night he fell on ice in his driveway and broke three ribs, been laid up ever since.

Outside as I type this, I watch people navigate our icy sidewalk, and thank god I took some time this morning to go out there with salt and a big metal ice scraper. The good news is that in our town there is an auto body shop run by a farmer who does good work cheap. Because the last thing I need now is to get the insurance people involved and pay surcharges for the next three years all because I backed up too quickly.