Shatter Me was a bad choice

            It always happens when you’re not looking, the bad things. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I always knew that. When you’re not paying attention is when life decides to throw you a hurtle and see just how high you can jump.

            Well, let’s just count our blessings that no one went airborne this time, yes? My dad said last night that stuff happens in life and what matters is how you react to it, or something like that. My first reaction was “I’M FINE I’M FINE I’M FINE! OH MY GOD, MY CAR!”

            You never expect it to happen to you, either. Let’s just throw that in there. Especially not when you’re just wanting to get home after celebrating a long overdue marriage. I saw her start to pull out and as Lzzy Hale sang “Shatter Me” I tried to go around her. That’s when my passenger side got hit and the car spun. I didn’t screech but I did scream like a little girl. I don’t remember what the impact sounded like, oddly enough, when I’ll never forget that sound as a deer hit my Pawpaw’s car years ago. Strange how that works.

            Lzzy was still singing when my car came to a stop in the ditch. My first instinct was to find my phone and call Bear and my dad, but I was so freaked out I couldn’t think to push my seat back so I could climb out. There was no getting out on my side of the car. Thank the gods for people who stop to check on you. They’re the ones who have enough sense left to tell you “push the seat back” and “turn off your car. Can you get out?” My phone had somehow flown and landed in my backseat.

            Heavily banged up passenger side. A driver side front bumper that’s seen better days. No scratches. No bruises. All windows are still intact. And as my dad found out this morning, the car still drives. I love my Daddy. He pulled the car through the yard and in front of my window, honking the horn so I could see it was still mobile. Goddess, I’m thankful for him. He’s been on the fire department for twenty years, been on the scene of more accidents than I want to think about, and he was as calm as could be when he got there last night.

            Bear came running too. I wasn’t far from his house when it happened. I’m not ashamed to admit that when he got there, I all but ran to him and promptly burst into tears. He had me laughing on the way home too, bringing me back down to the normal plane of being.

            Maybe there’s something morbid about blogging after you’ve been in a wreck, but after trying to climb out of my car and all I could think was “Oh god, what does my car look like?” my next instinct is to write about it. Writer for life, dude.

            My car is 12 years old. There’s a chance the damage is more than it is worth, but I’ll be damned before it goes to the junkyard or someone else. I may have to have something else to drive, but that just means it’ll be parked and I’ll fix it as I can. It’s my first car and it has been a damned good one. Plus, it’s a Mustang. You don’t just let that go if you can help it.

            I’ve got a long list of what I’m thankful after last night. The top of the list is that I have family like I do that come running when I call. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. No one was hurt beyond some soreness this morning.

            That’s how I’m going to react to this, Dad. Take it in stride and count my blessings, and hold no ill will towards the woman who hit me. Shit happens. Jump that hurtle and move on.

            And cry a little bit every time you look at the passenger side of the car.