Pop-crackle-crunch-tinkle-tinkle… tinkle
I had just parked in the WCC lot today after *carefully* *inching* my way along the ends of all the rows where students are either swinging out with the wild abandon one feels when let out of class or beating tracks to get to that elusive spot in the next row. I was taking my time getting out of my vee-hickle, making sure I had everything I needed for class. I thought, “WHAT was THAT?” The last time I heard that kind of noise, the vee-hickle in which I was parked jumped a foot or two over one of those concrete parking barriers. It was a few years ago at Commie High and I had *randomly* (thank the gods) chosen to drive The Indefatigable down there that day, so my vee-hickle suffered no damage. The kid who hit me must’ve been going about 25 mph as he pulled tried to pull into the space next to me. There was a fake leg hanging out of his trunk. Judging by the number of dents on his vee-hickle, I doubt he cared if he got a few more.
I thought about this for a minute. I didn’t seem to have moved anywhere. So far, so good. I got out of my vee-hickle and warily looked around. I don’t know exactly what happened but it involved someone backing out and someone else driving down the rows maybe a little too fast. Both kids looked like about Mouse’s age. Their vee-hickles looked brand new. *How* in the *heck* do these kids have so much money? My newest vee-hickle is my cute little blue honda civic with the yellow flower sticking out of the blower. It’s two years old. That’s NEW to me. Kee-reist. Is it only two years since my brother left the earth? It seems like an eternity. Errrr, I bet at least one of those kids was driving “mom’s car”. 😉 Sigh. One or maybe two mom’s moms are having very bad days today? I’m not. Knock on wood! 🙂
If my vee-hickle had been hit, I’d have probably been really angry. I’d’ve probably asked those kids if they’d gotten their driver’s licenses out of a Cracker Jack box. But I wasn’t hit, thank god. Those who saw what happened were congregating and I suppose the police were called. I didn’t see what happened so I didn’t get *too* involved. I said to the first person I saw, “I HATE THIS PARKING LOT. I’VE HAD ABOUT 5 NEAR MISSES THIS SEMESTER!” She was a blonde young woman not unlike my daughters. She was looking right through me, so I just talked to the universe. No one responded. Who cared what some ol’ bag had to say? And, you know? It’s not always all that bad to be invisible so I just continued on into the building, figuring I might stop shaking before I had to go to class. Grok grok!