9/22/06, very early:
Small fender-bender last night, a couple of blocks away from picking up Fourthborn and Fiance from their work. Nobody hurt, not much visible damage on my car, slightly more on hers, but my dear little red Lorelai has her nose distinctly out of joint, and her fan is much more audible than when we left the house in the morning. Now we will learn if Other Driver's insurance company is as johnny-on-the-spot about claims as their commercials say...
9/26/06, rather late:
And it would appear that they are. I received a call Friday morning from their claims adjuster, accepting liability. We made an appointment for me to bring Lorelai in for vehicular Botox. I dropped the car off at 8:00 this morning and drove to work in a Ford Taurus, which is large and slow and quirky. It accelerates slowly. It decelerates slowly. Both important facts to remember while driving into BigD and back, until Lorelai warbles, "Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my closeup."
I received a voicemail saying that it looked as if she would be out of pocket for six business days, and they would call me on Friday with a progress report.
The moonroof on the rental car is nice, very nice. LittleBit opened it on our drive home from Knit Night. And the sound system is impressive. But I have to yank the steering wheel right and left, hard, in order to start the engine. "Park" doesn't like me. The car just sits there and flashes its anti-theft idiot light at me and refuses to start unless I wrestle it into submission. That's not a quirk: that's a design flaw.
I Do Not Like This Car.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!