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I wasn't even going that fast...
May. 2nd, 2002 12:33 amWhat's sad is that I knew the road was slick. I was slowing down a fucking block away from the stop sign.
Still didn't help.
An idiot began backing out of the alley. In my path. Of course, looking back, if I had just not immediately hit the brake, or even if I'd swerved without stopping--no, wait, then I would've hit the truck head on.
Instead, I skidded, fighting to go around the fucking bitch. Didn't, of course.
Why did this have to happen on my way to work? Why not at a time when I was rested, and relaxed enough to be able to remember my name?
My bumper went under hers (apparently, she couldn't get her car into drive), and now my front grill looks like I took a sledgehammer to it.
Interestingly enough, my headlights are fine. The casing shattered, and one's oddly bent.... But the bulbs themselves are perfectly working (even the brights).
And now I sit here shaking, finally being able to relax and feel. I couldn't, then. I had to go to work. To sit at a desk while rich assholes pretended that running out of toilet paper was a national emergency. They can't even call a fucking cab for themselves.
The other car has some... scrapes, I guess they'd be called.
She rabbited, too. By the time my mind was saying, "Exchange names and numbers, and get her license plate number, too." she was gone. Apparently, it wasn't worth backing out of the alley after all.
I haven't a clue what my parents will say. By the time my mother was home, the new yuppie trainee was there. I wasn't about to hold THAT sort of conversation with her leaning over my shoulder.
Dad works two jobs. I don't think I've seen him since Sunday.
Still didn't help.
An idiot began backing out of the alley. In my path. Of course, looking back, if I had just not immediately hit the brake, or even if I'd swerved without stopping--no, wait, then I would've hit the truck head on.
Instead, I skidded, fighting to go around the fucking bitch. Didn't, of course.
Why did this have to happen on my way to work? Why not at a time when I was rested, and relaxed enough to be able to remember my name?
My bumper went under hers (apparently, she couldn't get her car into drive), and now my front grill looks like I took a sledgehammer to it.
Interestingly enough, my headlights are fine. The casing shattered, and one's oddly bent.... But the bulbs themselves are perfectly working (even the brights).
And now I sit here shaking, finally being able to relax and feel. I couldn't, then. I had to go to work. To sit at a desk while rich assholes pretended that running out of toilet paper was a national emergency. They can't even call a fucking cab for themselves.
The other car has some... scrapes, I guess they'd be called.
She rabbited, too. By the time my mind was saying, "Exchange names and numbers, and get her license plate number, too." she was gone. Apparently, it wasn't worth backing out of the alley after all.
I haven't a clue what my parents will say. By the time my mother was home, the new yuppie trainee was there. I wasn't about to hold THAT sort of conversation with her leaning over my shoulder.
Dad works two jobs. I don't think I've seen him since Sunday.
