Good Morning Cara!

This morning after dropping off the girls at school, I headed to the gym. Luck was with me in the parking garage as one of the prime spots was open for parking. I pulled in and put the car in park, leaving the engine running so I could finish listening to MJ's morning show segment. While sitting there laughing my car suddenly lurched forward, throwing me up against the steering wheel. I sat dazed wondering if my foot had slipped on the gas pedal. Then I heard a crunching noise and the car rocked back and forth a few times.

The light bulb went off in my head, and I turned around to see a sporty red car stuck to my passenger side bumper. Instinct had me turning off the car, sighing, and opening the door to exchange insurance information. As I climbed from the car, the red sporty vehicle suddenly lurched forward and took off with a squealing of tires that resonated quite loudly in the covered parking garage.

I ran around my van and attempted to get the license number, but despite my $5,000 eyes, my poor little brain could not wrap itself around the fact that this was a hit and run and thus I didn't get even a number or letter off the license. Nor did I know the type of vehicle. Or what sex was behind the wheel.

The car had to stop at the exit to the garage as two people were crossing the street, but instead of leaving my purse and chasing it down I yelled at the two people to get the license number. They, of course, did not understand my screaming or did not hear me and once they hit the sidewalk the red sporty car burned rubber and turned the corner toward freedom, leaving me standing there in shock.I slowly looked left and right searching for someone to sympathize with me, and when that failed to turn up anyone who had seen what had happened, I turned back to survey the damage to my car. This is what I found:

Once again my van's bumper has saved my life. There was really no damage other than this spot, which I can't really say was caused by this crash. Could have happened any of the gillion times I was hit or any of the gillion times I hit something. Can't say for sure. All I do know is that my car was not damage by the sporty red car.

Use to be that when in these types of troubles I called my father. He was very controlled and calm in situations like this and usually he would jump into his car and arrive at the scene no matter if it happened in another state. Alas, not having my dad has caused me to turn to the next male figure in my life. I called my husband. At work, god forbid. He listened, got annoyed that the driver had sped off, and instructed me to call the city police who handled that area.

By this time I had also remembered that parts of the garage has cameras. I went inside the gym center and the desk clerk called security. I got on the phone with security and he said he would look through the pictures. If he found something, he would send it to me via email. The entire time he was agreeing to help me I knew he was really just humoring me. He had no intention of doing anything. So I called the non-emergency police number my husband had offered up. Officer Harry interrupted me as soon as I said, "Someone just hit me in the parking garage." He then proceeded to bark questions at me. "Was anyone hurt? What is the name of the street? Did I get a make and model? Color? Size of vehicle. And on and on. By the time I got to utter, "there was no damage to my car" I was worn out and slightly annoyed. When he heard no damage he was annoyed. "What do you want us to do?" Oh, I don't know, YOUR JOB? I explained about the cameras in the parking garage. He explained that the only thing they could get the sporty red vehicle owner for was reckless driving. Yeah? Well, good, because he was driving reckless. AND HE LEFT. The whole time Officer Harry was giving me this information I knew he had no intention of helping me. He was going to get off this phone call, ball up my paperwork, and toss it in the trash.

I eventually gave up and drove home. In the beginning I had been too shaky from fright to work out. By the end I was too shaky from anger to work out. The thing that kept me going was my wonderful bumper. I hope to hell that the sporty red car has tons of damage. I hope that crunching noise I heard was the ripping of the sporty red bumper and siding. I hope the light got busted. I hope the driver is fraught with guilt and can't sleep. I hope that driver is a regular at the gym and is now worried I will see the sporty red car and ram it!

After I got home I received a text from Madison whose class is spending the day at Adventure Island. It read: "Mom I accidentally left Violet in the back seat. Could you get her and keep an eye on her today?"

And Violet had no cracks. The bumper saved my grandchild.

I tell my husband all the time that if we ever buy another van that bumper is coming with me. I hope he knows I mean it.