I was asked recently if I have a clean driving record as my license will soon need to be renewed. I do, although I had so much fun taking my initial test, three times, I clearly do everything, almost everything I can to get back behind the wheel with Inspector Scary. I blame this clean driving record on living in the city where I simply don't drive as much. And I can't go as fast, traffic and congestion have really slowed me down. But not completely, I find new ways to get in to trouble. Yesterday I drove the wrong way down a one way street in Evanston. I was looking for the farmer's market (great market once I found it) and poof, there I was on the wrong side of a very large median. Our car has numerous bumps and bruises, most accounted for, some remain a mystery. The week after we got it I backed into the garage. A few years ago I ran into, or they ran into me, an older couple (back in Evanston, clearly I need to stay out of the suburbs), to clarify, an older couple in a car. The right side of the car now says JEEP ND CHE . There is a small ding in the back I attribute to Jack driving away from a gas station (in the suburbs!) still attached to the gas pump thing. He denies it.
Car mishaps need not only happen when I am driving. A few apartments ago I closed the garage door while we were painting bookshelves. The door hit the top of one bookshelf, which caused it to topple right onto the next bookshelf (think dominoes) and they both fell, kerplat, onto our neighbor's car. Our neighbor loved her car so she was not pleased to find it missing a mirror with a large gash on the side. Our insurance agent was not too happy either.
Several years ago I rear ended a very large SUV, so new it still had temporary plates. I broke my nose in this one, probably just penance for ruining a brand new car. The bump in the back they could fix but the smell, the car probably had to be totaled. It seems that the nice mother I bumped was on her way to school or church or somewhere one might go with a huge pan of baked beans. Yes, beans everywhere. She pulled out her small child as I sat there, blood all over my face, child covered head to toe in beans. He must be at least 15 years old, I bet he doesn't much care for beans.
I honor my Aunt Oohooh with my driving skills. Once while taking her driving exam the inspector lady told her to either pull over or she would have to write her a ticket. Somehow she got a license, I rode with her many times, and clearly took copious notes each time I got in the car.