Great start to winter break.
Winter break is supposed to be awesome.
Last night, I hit a parked car. The policeman said I probably totaled my car and the other one.
I was rushing over to a friend's house, not caring about the dense frost that had accumulated on the windshield of my car. I did a halfassed job of scraping it off with the scraper and I had the defroster on full blast, but my visibility was still poor. And all of a sudden, a block or two from my house, a sudden jolt courses through my car.
Oh, fuck. Oh my God. It won't be that bad, I promise myself. I've been rear ended before and it didn't leave so much as a scratch on either car.
I pull up to see the damage on the back bumper of the other car, a black 1998 Honda Civic. I pretty much laid down some carnage on the back end of it. The left side of the trunk is crumpled, the plastic covering the tail light is on the ground, and the fiberglass of the bumper is shattered on the ground. I panic, breaking into tears.
How could this happen to me? I drive 80 feet back to my house, not worrying enough about the scraping sound my car makes when I accelerate. When I park outside my house and examine the car, I see that the right part of my front bumper is hanging by a cord. What the fuck is going on? How could this happen to me?
I told my mom. I panicked and freaked out as if i was 7 or 8 years old. We told the people whose car we hit. They told the police.
I didn't get a ticket because there's no dispute as to what happened. My license isn't suspended either. I'm grateful for that, and for the fact that nobody is dead or hurt in the least bit. I am also glad it happened so close to my house and I didn't crash into a moving car on Spring Road or something, causing more damage and possibly casualties.
What I'm not happy about is that my parents were amazingly generous enough to buy me a 1994 Toyota Corolla and it wasn't even for a special occasion. My brother and I were supposed to share it; but here I go ruining my mode of transportation, sucking up funds, bringing shame to myself and abusing my parents' trust for me. I also feel absolutely horrible for the woman whose car I hit. It could so easily have been avoided but I had to go out and make a horrible decision, causing thousands of dollars in damages and a huge legal/insurance hassle.
It's embarrassing and shameful for me to admit what happened, because it was so stupid of me. But I'd rather get it out now than cover it up.
My parents insist that some good can come out of this. I'll be a more responsible driver from now on, they say, and I'll always make sure my windshield is clear before I drive anywhere. Both are probably true, but it's impossible not to think about the negative aspects of crashing the car my parents bought for me at the beginning of winter break.
As cheesy a lesson as it is, I really should count my blessings, treasure the privileges I have, and realize I always have to be responsible and cautious. It's a reality check, to be sure, but why does such a gigantic reality check have to happen to the usually responsible, rational me?
On a more positive note, happy birthday to Michelle. I hope to hang out with you and everyone else a lot over break. I'm sure I can still have fun despite what happened. I did last year, right?
Last night, I hit a parked car. The policeman said I probably totaled my car and the other one.
I was rushing over to a friend's house, not caring about the dense frost that had accumulated on the windshield of my car. I did a halfassed job of scraping it off with the scraper and I had the defroster on full blast, but my visibility was still poor. And all of a sudden, a block or two from my house, a sudden jolt courses through my car.
Oh, fuck. Oh my God. It won't be that bad, I promise myself. I've been rear ended before and it didn't leave so much as a scratch on either car.
I pull up to see the damage on the back bumper of the other car, a black 1998 Honda Civic. I pretty much laid down some carnage on the back end of it. The left side of the trunk is crumpled, the plastic covering the tail light is on the ground, and the fiberglass of the bumper is shattered on the ground. I panic, breaking into tears.
How could this happen to me? I drive 80 feet back to my house, not worrying enough about the scraping sound my car makes when I accelerate. When I park outside my house and examine the car, I see that the right part of my front bumper is hanging by a cord. What the fuck is going on? How could this happen to me?
I told my mom. I panicked and freaked out as if i was 7 or 8 years old. We told the people whose car we hit. They told the police.
I didn't get a ticket because there's no dispute as to what happened. My license isn't suspended either. I'm grateful for that, and for the fact that nobody is dead or hurt in the least bit. I am also glad it happened so close to my house and I didn't crash into a moving car on Spring Road or something, causing more damage and possibly casualties.
What I'm not happy about is that my parents were amazingly generous enough to buy me a 1994 Toyota Corolla and it wasn't even for a special occasion. My brother and I were supposed to share it; but here I go ruining my mode of transportation, sucking up funds, bringing shame to myself and abusing my parents' trust for me. I also feel absolutely horrible for the woman whose car I hit. It could so easily have been avoided but I had to go out and make a horrible decision, causing thousands of dollars in damages and a huge legal/insurance hassle.
It's embarrassing and shameful for me to admit what happened, because it was so stupid of me. But I'd rather get it out now than cover it up.
My parents insist that some good can come out of this. I'll be a more responsible driver from now on, they say, and I'll always make sure my windshield is clear before I drive anywhere. Both are probably true, but it's impossible not to think about the negative aspects of crashing the car my parents bought for me at the beginning of winter break.
As cheesy a lesson as it is, I really should count my blessings, treasure the privileges I have, and realize I always have to be responsible and cautious. It's a reality check, to be sure, but why does such a gigantic reality check have to happen to the usually responsible, rational me?
On a more positive note, happy birthday to Michelle. I hope to hang out with you and everyone else a lot over break. I'm sure I can still have fun despite what happened. I did last year, right?