I Broke My Car

Before I even begin this, I'm okay. Some things happened, but I'm okay and I'm glad to be okay. It was all a minor incident and basically, I'm lucky that I didn't run into someone else... That being said, let's get on into the story:

I broke my car.

Let's being this with saying that I was going to the bank to take out a little bit of money on my way to work. I had a choice of three banks; Bank B, Bank F, and Bank C (the corresponding letters being their locations). Each of them I could potentially pass on my journey to work, but I just had to make the decision on the way.

This all began with me leaving my house early because one, as mentioned above, I was going to the bank, and two, I wanted McDonald's before I clocked in to sell shoes to little kids since it's tax-free weekend here in Virginia.

Either route I would have taken, I would have passed B, but I had the choice of two McDonald's to go to. C is kind of a crowded route to go through; the bank is placed off to the side in the woods, there are some center lanes and a pile of stoplights, and it's all located in a convenient strip of restaurants and businesses. Typically, I don't go this route to go to work due to all the traffic, but I was really debating on it today.

F is the bank that I pass every day. The route that I usually take follows through a very quiet area covered in railroad tracks and you only have to worry about the occasional stoplights. You come out right at the end of the strip mentioned above and you head towards the intersection to where I can go to work. The McDonald's over there is placed by what used to formerly be a mall and I had planned on going there.

What had happened though was I looked down at the clock and I noticed that I had almost forty-five minutes until I needed to be at work and I knew that if I didn't hurry up, I wouldn't be able to eat. So, as I was driving, I chose B and turned into the drive thru. I noticed that there was a car right by the window so I chose the second lane and all I heard was thunk.

In my head I sat that and said, "Oh shit, I've ran over something." So my first reaction was to back up, but what happened was I only made it worse when I heard another thunk followed by a crack.

I put my car in park, knowing that I had really fucked up and slowly climbed out only to see that I had misjudged when I turned and ended up running into a fluorescent yellow, concrete pole. It was lodged in my front bumper and when I had tried to back up, I only tugged at the bumper, cracking it and shattered my passenger side headlight. I was stuck, I knew I had really messed up, and it was starting to rain.

In my panic, a woman who worked for the bank ran outside to ask me if I was already and I frantically nodded my head, trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do and how my dad was going to kill me. She looked over at the pole, mentioned that I hadn't caused any damage to the bank (the fucking pole didn't even have a scratch on it), and asked if I wanted to try to pull the car out.

I told her that it was my dad's car and I was afraid to mess with it anymore than I had already had because one, my bumper was going to come off, and two, it looked as if it may have popped my tire when I ran into it. She asked me if I needed to call my parents and I nodded my head before she led me inside, allowing me to sit down.

Now at this point, I was in tears. This is the first time I've ever done something like that and just knowing that I had messed up and that my dad was going to be disappointed in me only made it worse. I was crying and my hands were shaking and the woman was trying to calm me down and thankfully, I got my mom on the phone since I knew that she would be the closest person nearby.

Mom said that she would be up there in a little bit to help me out and I called my work, explaining to my manager what had happened and how I probably wasn't going to be able to get into work and I was also crying on the phone with her. She told me that everything was going to be okay since we had insurance and everyone messes up every now and again. We're not supposed to take days off without someone taking our shift, but she let it slide with me this time due to my situation and I'm glad that she did such.

So here comes the big part with Dad.

I called up to my stepgrandfather's house hoping that my stepmother would be there. She left the house about the same time I did, but we went in totally different directions since I was going to one city to work and she was going to the town that I spent most of my life in. She, my dad, my stepbrother, and my sister were supposed to go the mall and stuff up there, but you know, stuff happened.

My stepmother wasn't there so my plan for her to calm my probably pissed off dad down was a no-go. Instead, I tried to bullshit my conversation with my stepgrandfather as he told me that my dad was sitting up at his house and he asked me if everything was okay. I lied and told him that it was because I was fucking terrified of what my dad has to say to me. Instead of following my wishes, my stepgrandfather gave the phone to my dad and I explained the situation; he told me he'd be down to the bank in about thirty minutes.

I was still basically in tears by this point and even though Dad didn't sound as mad as I thought he would be, I was scared. A woman in the bank offered to let me come upstairs and use the bathroom if I needed to and I followed her so I could wipe what was left of my streaked makeup. In the process, I couldn't breathe and I thought I was going to have a panic attack when my mom showed up.

I talked to her for a few minutes, really not able to say anything because I was crying and she calmed me down a little bit. Before we started to head back down to the main office, another lady told me that I wasn't the first person to do what I did and I wasn't going to be the last. She said it happens pretty often around here due to most of the farmers around here having large trucks and whatnot.

So, I grab my stuff, go out to my mom's car, and sit there for a while. My half sister didn't say anything to me because Mom knew that it would upset me more than I already was and I talked to my mom about work before Dad showed up. Dad looked pretty agitated and I slowly climbed out of the car and he asked where the car was.

Let me mention that the car was still in the same place as where I had wrecked it. The thing was still wrapped around the pole and the second lane of the bank's drive thru was closed, my car sitting there in place for everyone to see.

Dad asked for my keys which I handed over and he climbs in the car. I back up about five to ten feet away and he starts driving backwards to where you can perfectly hear a snap. Next thing I know, there was two pieces of plastic that went flying through the air and my front bumper hits the concrete, almost fully detached from my car. So much of that bumper had been taken off that you could see the coolant tank and the little wires that keep the passenger headlight illuminated.

Dad takes the rest of the bumper off before throwing it in the back of his truck and somehow he managed to make zip-ties appear in thin air and tied up the piece of the car that was coming free for me to run over. I talked to my mom a little bit as he drives my car over to the parking lot and asks if I want him to follow me home to where I can drop the car off. I agree and I said my goodbyes to my mother before Dad and I left.

The ride home wasn't really eventful besides my little bluetooth speaker dying and someone almost cutting me off because they were being impatient.

So, when we get home, Dad has to call the insurance office. Now, I don't really know what goes on in a situation like this, but I sat on the couch nearby listening to the conversation as he described what had happened, how I did it, when it was, etc, etc, etc. They said that I had to pay $250 out of pocket to fix the car and my jaw kind of dropped because I really don't have that much money... I'm just now getting my first paycheck.

Since I'm in this pickle, Dad told me that I could pay him in increments due to the fact I owe him for buying my medicine (I was at the bank trying to get money for that), my car insurance for this month, and now this hefty bill that is hanging over my head for my car. It's kind of hard especially for me since I make $7.25 an hour and 7% on commissions for whatever I sell.

It's a big thing to worry about, but what matters is that I'm okay. Dad didn't get mad, but he was worried about me and so was everyone else. As he said, the car is replaceable, but I'm not. Until I get my car fixed, I have to drive Dad's old green Ford to and from work which is kind of stressing me out due to it being a big ass truck and the fact that the breaks squeak and all that other stuff. Apparently it's fine, but it still worries me.

But yeah, just thought I'd share this little bit of information with you guys since it was something that's been on my mind for most of the day... So yeah, I've had my license for a month and I've already wrecked my car... Best. Day. Ever.

_{...and yes, that was sarcasm...}

Until next time,
Kayla VI