Nov 28, 2014 3 min read

I was on the Parkway when a car in front of me stopped suddenly. I was able to stop in time. Unfortunately, the driver behind me didn’t. A big van slammed into my car. Luckily, everyone was OK. The driver was a kid going home for the holiday. His sister, also a college student, was in the passenger seat, and she was crying. He was an art student. She was studying accounting. I thought it odd they were swimming in the same gene pool. To alleviate her anxiety, I told jokes. Yes, I cheered up the people who wrecked my car. To be fair, their car was totaled.

After I calmed her down a bit, I secretly called the police and told them it was AAA. I didn’t want her to start crying again. Ten years ago, a woman who hit my car gave me fake information, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. So, I was crossing my I’s and dotting my T’s or whatever.

The state trooper asked us for our license and registration. I accidentally gave him my volleyball schedule. It was a color-coded Excel spreadsheet all folded up in my wallet for quick reference. After he learned my team, Wet for the Net, lost their last six games, he asked for my real registration. I guess he felt sorry for my poor setter skills. I was juggling papers, a pen and trying to get info out of my wallet with no place to put anything down. I kept handing him papers (including a coupon for a car wash, and a really good fortune from a fortune cookie) until I found my insurance information. I was a little discombobulated from the accident, which is sort of funny because the fortune said I was unflappable. He was actually nice about the whole thing.

A police officer told me I had to get my car towed. I called AAA (for real this time). Then, he said I could probably drive it. So, I canceled AAA, because I used up my roadside service points on a flat tire and a dead battery earlier this year, and they wanted to charge me for coming out. The local policeman helped me pull my bumper from my car to make the vehicle road-worthy. I held the crumpled bumper and said, “Should I keep this?” He looked at me as if I had two heads. I’m pretty dense about car things. I walked the mangled metal to the nearby dumpster. As luck would have it, the accident took place near a dumpster. A lot of car parts ended up there this day; some from mine, some from the other car.

I drove my battered and bruised car home, fearing the entire way the trunk would pop open, as nothing was really holding it in place anymore. I got home two hours after my planned arrival time. I sat down to eat dinner and the power went out. These things aren’t supposed to happen on the same day! I went looking for a flashlight. By the way, it’s a lot easier to find a flashlight when the lights are on. I finished my meal by candlelight. The power came on 30 minutes later, and though it was only eight o’clock, I was ready to call it a night.

I turned on the television to watch “The Flash.” Ironically, the episode was titled “Power Outage.” Coincidence? Probably. It was still a weird night.