Not Five (Now Six)

The number 5 represents the total sum of cars that have hit a car I am driving. I haven’t finished driving just yet, so I imagine that statistic could still go up. As long as there are those on the highways and freeways, who wreak havoc from their steering wheel, that figure could conceivably be challenged…and changed for the worse.  I may very well send a sailor into a crimson blush while seated in my car on any one of the occasions that some hapless soul has misjudged the distance between us and hit my car. Now, keep in mind that my history of being hit 5 times was fault of the other driver each time. Who gets hit 5 times ?!? I do.

1974, I was driving my 1966 Toyota when a woman rear-ended my car as I entered the left-turn lane into a shopping center, Lampson Blvd., Garden Grove, CA. Hers was a Corvette. The fiberglass body demolished. I suffered whip-lash, went to the hospital, was treated, and discharged.

1975, at a light where I proceeded through the turn, a teenager ran her red light. My car was hit front-center. Lampson & Valley View, Garden Grove, CA. No injury to either of us, but my car was deemed irreversibly damaged.

2006, Bubba (I don’t think that was his name, but he was in a pick-up truck, so, by association…) rear-ended my cute little Mini Cooper on Highway 12, Rio Vista, CA (.8 miles from my home) in what had become a trail of stopped cars just before the blinking light. When I made a quick peek in my rear-view mirror, it appeared that Bubba had a phone in his hand.  We both exited our cars, and he approached me with the statement, “I am going to lose my job…this is a company truck.” I had absolutely zero sympathetic response. Bubba, you should have been paying attention.

2015, I 80, Davis, CA. I was traveling in the left lane at about 75 mph.  But that was apparently too sluggish because out of nowhere a car came speeding around me from behind. He hit the right-rear of my (yes, again) cute little Mini Cooper. It was bright yellow, how could he not see it? Scary part? I went spinning across the other two lanes, with a death grip on the steering wheel until I came to rest at the right shoulder.  This incident was a hit-and-run in a rental car. The guy was never found, nor was the car. Prior to the CHP arrival, I had two samaritans  come to my aid. I was not injured. This event served to put my beloved Cooper to permanent retirement. Ten years with the most fun car ever.

And now for the crème de la crème of irony. Last year I worked an assignment that involved teaching ESL to two daughters and their mom from Germany.  I guess this is how Germans thank you for teaching them English. Mom pulled down the driveway and “bumped” my car which was parked to the right in the same driveway. I was indoors when it happened.  Mom came back in and said, “Cyndi, I bumped (such a cute euphemism) your car.” With no alarm in her voice whatsoever, but plenty in mine, I surveyed the spot and there was quite a lot of damage. Good thing her husband works for Roche

So, that’s the rundown. Quite a tally sheet, wouldn’t you say? My next car will be a hover craft.

Hold on.

Did you catch the edit? It’s 6 now. Just today I was involved in the 6th car crash. I am currently coming down off of the EXTREME distress that visited me. A big rig on the Rio Vista bridge, driven by an eating-his-hamburger-using-his-cell-phone-maybe-lighting-his-cigarette trucker. He hit one vehicle which in turn created the chain reaction with my car the final victim. No, I did not get hurt.

Whenever there is a serious accident on this bridge, traffic in every direction is paralyzed. And it was. For hours.

I returned home two hours later. I have been told that most accidents take place two miles from one’s home. I wasn’t even that far away. I was on my way to teach tap classes — my joy. No joy today.

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