Bit of Ivory

I’m trying so hard not to cry. It’s not working very well.

My parents were really nice to me this morning. You see, we had a big snowstorm through the night. My dad took today off, and my sister wasn’t working until this afternoon, so I was the only one that was going to have to dig out in the morning. Mom decided it would be nice if we pulled the van out of the garage and put my car in instead. And they did! I didn’t have to clear off a single bit of snow from Lizzy this morning. The commute was okay, if a bit slow, and I made it to work. Where we were all in a festive kind of a mood, and where I kept getting presents from coworkers and suppliers and stuff like that. And we decided we all wanted to order in, so I ate lunch at my desk and then left to do a bit of last minute shopping. And to deposit my paycheck.

And all was good. I was almost back to work, blasting “Song for Ten” on endless repeat on my iPod, and I stopped at a light. The line was longer than usual, I admit. And I had to stop just a bit shorter than I like– short enough that my iPod slipped off the passenger seat and on to the floor. I bent down to pick it up. . .

and got rear-ended. Apparently the lady in the Honda Pilot wasn’t paying attention– she said she was looking down for just a moment– and couldn’t stop in time. She did try to swerve to miss me, but didn’t quite succeed– her right headlight collided with Lizzy’s left taillight. Smashing up the trunk in the process. The impact wasn’t enough to deploy the airbags, but it sure did a number on my poor car.

I feel okay. A bit of a headache, and a bruise on my leg where it slammed into the dashboard. I’m much more injured in spirit. This is the first time I’ve been in an accident. Well, okay, I’ve been rear-ended before, but it was at low speed with no damage. And I accidentally scraped Lizzy along my brother’s bumper in the driveway. This was different. Police were called. And even though it wasn’t at all my fault, I feel horrible.

Especially because of my car. Lizzy’s pretty old, you see– a 1997 Toyota Corolla. My parents bought her for me to commute in the summer after my freshman year of college, which was 1999. She was in great shape then, and she was still in great shape, except for a bit of paint damage (from the above-mentioned scraping and various other things like flying rocks on freeways). I love that car. I’ve driven her for 8 years. I drove her to the Shakespearean Festival three times, and to Lumos. Other people drove her every once in a while–my brother and I shared her for a couple of years in college, until he bought his own car, and Mom takes her when she doesn’t want to drive the van, but she’s really my car. I named her. I planned to buy her, as soon as my credit cards were paid off. I was going to get her oil changed next weekend, and fill up her tires. I’ve gotten awfully attached to that hunk of metal.

And now I’m mortally afraid that the lady’s insurance will want to total her.

Yeah. Really not doing so well with the not crying thing.