Last Saturday started out like any normal Saturday. Woke up nice and early to do breakfast and some chores before heading to our 9:15am soccer game. Lost the game 5-0. You know, normal shit.
Came home and did some more chores while Little J relaxed and had lunch. My parents were due in at 4:30pm to belatedly celebrate my birthday so I was doing that last-minute cleaning/dishes/laundry push. Grinding. I was on such a roll that when J texted me to let me knew he’d be home around 12:30pm from football practice, I was ecstatic!
Little J had an All Star soccer practice (that I’m NOT coaching!) at 1pm so that meant J could take her. I will ALWAYS hand off chauffeuring duties whenever possible. As they were finally walking out the door, he asked me how to get to the field. He was only able to come to the first game so he couldn’t remember where it was. Apparently he got overwhelmed by my directions and cut me off to say he would just look up directions on his phone. I hate the thought of him fooling with his phone while driving, so I told him to just take my car since the GPS was in it. He happily obliged, we traded keys and off they went.
Practice was due to end at 2:30pm and it takes about 10 minutes to get from the field to home. When 3pm rolled around I started to wonder what my J’s were up to. I didn’t stop to find out though because I was trying to stuff our down comforter into a duvet cover. Which is a major fucking pain in the ass, by the way.
At 3:05pm my phone rang, it was a number I didn’t know so I didn’t answer it. Then the number called again and didn’t leave a message either time. When I picked up my phone to look up the number on whitepages.com, I got a text message. I’m 100% confident that my heart stopped beating for a few seconds when the first line of the text scrolled at the top of my screen:
This is your husband we were in a car accident….
Holyfuckingshit. When my heart did start-up again, it was threatening to beat right out of my chest. My breathing got faster and then I was literally running out of the apartment. Only for one split second did I stop to think to change out my slippers for shoes. I called J back on the unknown number and he told me they hit a woman (t bone) and that they were both okay and the accident wasn’t his fault.
They were both okay.
It didn’t matter. I needed to see them with my own eyes, I had to get my arms around my daughter. I thought about how scared she must have been and almost started crying. Almost. I was on a mission. GET THERE NOW.
You ever hear that statistic about accidents being less than a mile from home? You can add this one to the list.
It only took me 5 minutes to get from my front door to the police car that my daughter was sitting in. Most of that time was spent honking the horn in J’s car and frantically adjusting the seat and mirrors. The traffic was practically sitting still because the collision happened right in the middle of an intersection. A third car was somehow involved too but I didn’t give a fuck about that. I needed to see my baby.
She gave me the kind of hug that says “I have never been happier to see you in my whole life”.
That’s exactly how I felt too.
After truly making sure she was okay, I turned to J and hugged him too.
It’s pretty surreal to stand in the middle of an intersection hugging on your family. To have police officers, fire fighters and EMTs walking around you. To be standing next to a tow truck scraping mashed up vehicles onto its bed.
Fuck. Mashed up vehicles. My car is totaled. The driver side airbag deployed on impact. The entire front of the car is what I would call busted. The front passenger door got smushed so it doesn’t open. The windshield has a spider web of cracks on it. Even Bob the Builder couldn’t fix this shit. It’s a goner.
A firefighter asked me what I wanted to get from the car. It stunned me. I never really thought about what I would take if I had to walk away with whatever I could carry. What did I need out of my car? I climbed through the driver seat to open the dashboard and start flipping through the various papers. The firefighter suggested just dumping my plastic bag full of trash onto the floor and putting everything from the dash into the bag. At first I was appalled, I would never just dump trash all over the floor! Then it hit me that the whole car was basically trash at that point. It was sad.
Not that I’m all attached to the car, I understand it’s a thing. It can be replaced. I’m more attached to the fact that it was the first “nice” car I’ve ever owned and I had relatively low payments on it. My plans were to pay the loan off and drive the car forever. Or at least until the cost of ownership exceeded a reasonable limit. Or until some dumbass bitch ran a left red arrow going way faster than she should causing my car to collide with hers and effectively breaking it. She broke my car.
So now I have to get a new car, and my credit is not exactly great (read: awful).. I’m feeling extremely anxious about the process. I’ve already been denied for a loan with the same place that handles my insurance which is not a good sign. I’m probably going to end up having to go through a “buy here pay here” type of dealership which I find to be extremely fucking unfair. I got my loan fair and square and fucking made my payments and now I am STUCK, literally absolutely fucking STUCK because I am not credit worthy enough to get another loan. That is straight up fucked up. I’d love to make that dumb bitch cosign a loan for me since it’s her stupid fucking fault that I’m dealing with this.
Is that legal?
She lives in the same zip code where I work. I’ve had fantasies about doing bad things to her home. I’ll need to shred the paper with her address on it before I go car shopping this weekend otherwise I truly might do something stupid.
People keep telling me I should just be grateful that my family is okay. And don’t get me wrong, you have NO IDEA how grateful I am. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life… knowing that they were both fine without a scratch or bruise is the BEST NEWS I’ve ever gotten. That doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed the fuck off that my financial and credit situation is being raped in the ass and there’s not a thing I can do about it. How fair is that? Fuck.