Frozen Followers, last evening we on the East Coast of the US were treated with yet another storm. This is not so unusual in and of itself, aside from the fact that our car lost control on the ice and while making a right turn, slid sideways to the left, introducing itself to the sign at the entrance of the shopping center where an emergency supply of Temptations brand cat treats were waiting.
Luckily, the car has a good insurance policy, since the sign not only showed us where the market was, but also busted my windshield and sent a glorious shower of broken glass spraying from the hole where the drivers’ side window used to be. Nobody was injured and the car was able to be driven home, at which time we passed a few other vehicles resting inappropriately (creative way to say ‘smashed into’) lamposts and gaurdrails.
This is our third Saturn, a deep sea blue, L300 Sedan. It is a nice car and got us back home. It is seven years old, almost to the day, from date of purchase and has only about 65,000 miles on it. In 2004, on Janu-scary (a bizarro word, lifted from Superman comics) the 24th, our second Saturn got, in the venacular, totalled. That was a smaller, red, sporty model with a cool decal of the planet Saturn on each side. We had traded in the previous model, which was exactly the same, minus the decal, just to get the planet on the side.
Calculating in Leap Years, it would seem that this collision happened exactly seven years after the last one. This time the car survived, instead of ending up in a twisted mess of broken plastic connected to an engine. This time we did not break the windshield with forehead, like last time.
Seven years ago, the accident occurred after nine hours of drinking Irish cidre at a traditional celtic bar, where the music started at 11am on Saturdays. Seven years ago, freezing rain was also the culprit since it was not discernable when walking across the graveled parkinglot. The streets were not slippery but the on-ramp to the highway was frozen and a car with four youths (yutes) lost control about ten yards ahead.
We hit the brakes (the editorial we, as noted in The Big Lebowski) and watched as the shiny, red Saturn slowly and deliberately plowed into the haplessly spinning, white Toyota. The police came and were quite nice to us, giving us a ride to the police station to call a cab. The car had minimal insurance, even though it was only a year old, so your Humble Narrator had to make car payments on two vehicles for four years, a situation which sucked, to put it bluntly. This time we were armed with the ‘full tort’ premium insurance and everything is covered.
Much medication was used in the process of calming down after the show last night but after awhile, everything melted together like morphine in a glass of Guinness.