You know how people say bad things happen in threes? Like funerals/deaths? My dad hit a deer last week. Rather, the deer hit him in my brother’s spare car, a Cougar. My dad was fine, and the damage to the car was not huge. That is, until you think about the fact that a living, warm-blooded creature that could feel pain caused it. Ouch. Fur stuck between the rim at the tire. The blood washed off before I saw it.
Then this week, some nut ran a red light and caused nearly six grand in damage to my mom’s Mustang. If, of course, the body work turns out to be all that’s wrong. She was fine, and it will make a good story about Baltimore City residents sticking together, which I’ll have to share later. He hit the rear wheel and trashed literally the entire ride side of the body, and the Mustang has a solid rear end. Could be bad. She got a rental car. A certain base model BOS that I won’t name. Also red.
Then she had an accident in that thing yesterday. Nothing bad, really. No one was hurt or anything, no serious damage, it seems.
My family had their three now. Honestly, we were all waiting for the third to happen. I’m glad it’s over. I was afraid to ride my bike. Remember that fortune teller that said she saw me in a “crash” that did not involve a car. She never said I’d be Okay. But she also said I’d be in Germany right now with my brother and would have gotten a job in September. Instead, I have time to write a novel in November and then think about the fact that I have time to write a novel in a month.
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