Car meets tree. They kiss. Car quickly flees scene, embarrassed.
And yes, it was me, that was to blame for this little incident. It was a minor incident. Yes, minor, I tell you! Minor! Lest you think I am on the run from the law – here’s what happened.
I was coming home from the hair stylist – where my bangs had just been trimmed, taking away a quite plausible excuse for what was about to occur. I stopped at the end of our lane, parked (oh don’t I wish) my car, got out and turned my back to walk the 20 paces or so across the road to the mailbox to get the mail. Pirouetting back from the mailbox, sweeping my eyes both ways to check traffic (because I am careful like that) and then looking forward, I notice my car isn’t there. Well, not there where I left it. No, it had gently (thank you stars above) rolled forward away from me and the pasture of horses behind me and the mailboxes (thank you stars above) a distance of not even 10 paces, off the lane down a slight incline into the grass where a tall and lanky tree blocked its path.
Kiss! Barely a smack. Too brief to be a smooch. Never heard a sound. It left a hickey on the tree and removed a little lipstick from the bumper of my car.
I took photos two days later. I contemplated doing it on the spot, but my phone was inside the car, and once inside the little vehicle, I thought it best not to linger. You can see the tree, on my neighbors side of the lane by the way, didn’t sustain much damage.
Over the past 20 years the corners of both of our lots and the trees (and street signs and used to be split-rail-fences) out by the road have intermittently sustained damage of all types from all four families along our lane. Prime example, when snow covered it it hard to tell exactly how wide you can turn either direction there off the lane into the road. If you misjudge the angle, you will slip off the lane, your car will get mired down in mud or snow, you will need to be pulled out and you will leave deep ruts behind. We all have learned this the hard way.
Given the trees and grounds around here are pretty stout, we have all adopted a no blood, no foul attitude. Mother Nature repairs most things over time and split-rail fences while having lots of country charm are a constant maintenance item, and are best removed anyway. (And no, that was not on account of me!)
As a side note, Dukie always marks his spot at that very tree when I take him for walks to collect the mail. Yes I will be walking out to get the mail for the foreseeable future and not stopping (that, is parking, meaning the gear shift lever is actually slotted firmly and securely next to the P) on the way in or out.
Wanting to assuage my guilty conscience, and get rid of that icky feeling that one always has in varying degrees of distress after having a car incident, I confessed to hubby immediately. He completely dismissed it as trivial, excepting for his clever little jab that I could get it fixed at the same time that I take care of the scrapes on the back drivers-side panel. But that story, of the time when my car decided to hip-check the garage door frame, is for another day.
Alas, then this does not really make this “new” news. Technically it doesn’t even qualify for a Monday Memo. So you had best hop round and see what Sian@FromHighInTheSky and friends have new to report. (And yes, the post and layout by someone who might like [related guilty parties] to remain nameless prompted this little confession.)