It's time for the Spin Cycle, courtesy of Jen at
Sprite's Keeper. Oh Spin Cycle, how I missed thee in the week you took off. Anyway, this week's topic is another interesting one: the first time. And no, we're not talking THAT first time. So get your mind out of the gutter, people. No, I'll talk about a different first time for all of you.
Ok, so I have a small problem. A driving problem. Well, correct that...a parking problem. See, I, Nain, have what people call a depth perception problem. Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear type of thing. When I was in driver's ed, I remember them telling us about this, and I blew it off thinking "please, that problem doesn't exist." It wasn't until about one month after I got my license that I discovered that, yes, this problem does exist. And it's a bitch.
Over the course of my year of being a licensed driver, I've hit several parked cars. The last count I had was six, and that doesn't count inanimate objects: walls, rocks, fences, curbs, etc. I can't keep count of those. I have really really bad luck when it comes to cars. Really bad luck. I could give you a post for every incident when I have done something stupid in my car, but since this one is about my "first time," I'll just tell you about my first parked car.
I know I've already told you guys about my first car - my awesome 1992 Dodge Shadow convertible. I saved and saved and worked my butt off to get this car, and when I did, I was so excited. My own set of wheels. Finally. I tried my best to keep extra good care of this car. Keyword: tried.
It was a beautiful sunny day. I had just gotten out of school and was heading to my afterschool job. I was a junior in high school, and I had the world at my fingertips. My job was at a local elementary school working as a babysitter basically at an afterschool wrap-around program where kids could stay until around 6:00 p.m. when their parents got off work. It was a pretty decent gig. I was running a little late on this particular day, and the parking lot was ridiculously full at the school. I pull into the lot and see a spot to my right in between two cars. I turn my wheel as far as I think it should go and start to pull in.
It isn't but a few seconds before I hear it. The crunching noise The noise of metal being smashed and distorted. Sadly, I know this noise all too well. I dream about it in my sleep and wake up in a cold sweat. Yep, I hit a car. Panicking, I put my car in park. Right where it is, the exact position where I hit the car next to me. I think my the side of my car was still up on the other car's door just a bit, but I didn't know what to do. My first reaction: call Dad. He'll know what to do to fix this. Of course, my father works in a city about 50 minutes north of where I grew up. It's not like he could have instantly beamed himself there and made the car accident go away. So I call him. In tears, I tell him that I hit a blue Cavalier in the parking lot at work. He asks, "where's your car?" I tell him that it's still in the position it was where I hit it. He instructs me to figure out whose car it is and let them know. This isn't what I wanted to hear.
Obviously, this person was probably a teacher at this school. It was an elementary school, so clearly it couldn't belong to a student. The process of elimination was pretty easy with that one. So I go to the front desk and ask the secretary if she knows who owns a blue Cavalier at that school. She doesn't know but tells me that all of the teachers are in a meeting down the hall in the cafeteria. Why don't I go ask there? Again, not what I wanted to hear. But remember, my car is in an awkward position, blocking this car in, in the parking lot. I had no choice.
So I make my way to the cafeteria. I have tears in my eyes and this huge frog in my throat. The last thing I want to do is stand before a room of adults and say "hey I hit someone's car...who has the blue Cavalier?" But I did. I interrupted a teacher's meeting and embarrassed the hell out of myself in the process. Of course, the teacher who owned the car was really sweet. She gave me a hug, as I was in even more tears at this point, and she went outside and helped me back my car up and off of hers and then pull it in somewhere else. She said not to worry, that her husband could hammer out the dent in her car. Mine, on the other hand, was a whole other question. I did some pretty decent damage, too, I must say. However, in the grand scheme of things, I couldn't have asked for a nice person whose car to hit.
I'd like to say that that was my only experience doing this, but that would be one huge lie. However, this is my first time we're talking about, so we won't get into that. Another day, another blog post...
