The Car

Dave has expensive taste in cars. He can't help it - Dave Neale Sr., aka William Floyd Neale, was the same way. He loved his cars. He was always trading one newish car for an even newer car because the radio settings were all used, or the ashtray was full, or perhaps he was tired of the color.
Dave is somewhat the same; we have owned 19 cars in our 32 years of marriage; and so it is that we happen to own this lovely car. Dave loves this car; it is his one earthly treasure.

What Happened To The Car.

One day last week, I breezed out of the mall with my purchases, clicked open the trunk with my key fob, swung the bags in and started to walk around to get in the car. A flushed, plumpish, Polish lady scurried up to me and said breathlessly "I damage your car; I am so sorry. Look see there" Oh, yes, I did see...a large smash in the rear quarter panel and a scrape on the bumper. "I'm so sorry", she repeated and threw her arms around me in a big damp hug - it was a very hot day. Oooh, Dave isn't going to like this, I thought.


This Week in small, slow moving Salmon, Idaho, of all places, I managed to damage the car far worse than Gertruda did. I parked by a low concrete wall, and managed to forget all about the wall as I was leaving the parking place. I turned my wheels to leave the spot and SSSCRRRAAAAAPPED the front bumper along the rough concrete wall. How could I drive for two years in Calgary traffic and park everyday in a narrow stall next to a large post, having never damaged the car in the slightest, and now this!?!