What follows has absolutely nothing to do with baseball. Sorry.
When I left my house this morning, I was grumbling to myself about all the people who have door-dinged my car and not done anything about it. In fact, ALL of the people who have ever door-dinged me – at least one on all four doors – have failed to do the responsible thing. Grumble grumble.
Anywho, I went on some errands, including putting gas in my treasured Taurus. Seriously, I love that car. A few minutes later, the gas I had just paid for was trickling down the street, dripping out of the crumpled remains of my car. Someone had run a red light, and I tried to stop, but I hit him. Both airbags deployed, and my driver door was kind of hard to force open, but my phone stayed in its place in my lap so I was able to call 911.
A Jimmy Johns driver with a flowing mohawk, a kindly lady in a nearby office building, and an attorney happened to witness the wreck, and no one disputed that the other guy was at fault. Hooray! Everyone was super nice to me, too. And I got to ride home in the back of a cop car! Just like a perp!
I’m physically OK, I guess. There happened to be an ambulance nearby, and they are required to stop at the scene of an accident, I guess? They checked me out before the police and fire department even got there, and all was well. Here’s what’s left of my car.
So…that happened. Again, I’m fine, although I did just find a small piece of glass in my mouth. That was…unexpected. Now it’s time for the Royals game. I really hope they win.
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