Scrape

A new car always makes for a nervous driver. The paint is always perfect on a new car and seems to beg for a scratch or a dent, just to get it over with.

I’ve got two now and hate both of them.

I earned them both doing the same thing, backing up at night when it’s been raining. Backing a car is always difficult but, add tinted glass and narrow driveways in a big car and it’s even more challenging. The car is different too. The turn indicator and windshield wiper stalk on opposite sides of the steering column. So, when I want to turn I end up washing the windows, and vice versa. Couple all this with the stress of driving on the “wrong side of the road,” and you have a recipe for trouble.

“It’s a wonder the nose of this van hasn’t been ripped off at a round about. It’s a miracle of Providence that I haven’t had a major collision,” I said to John when he shouted a warning to me as I drifted into the vortex.”

A scrape or a dent or a crash is a sickening feeling, even when it’s relatively minor. Metal against anything solid never sounds good.

So, I’ve got two little blemishes on my new van and I’m not sure what to do about them yet.

I could easily do nothing about them and stop worrying about the aesthetics of my ride.

Margaret suggested, “Some cars are just like that. Remember that Ford we had years ago John? It had scratches all over it.”

I refused to accept that mine was one of “those cars.”

I could have the scratch and the dent fixed. Several people have suggested good body shops. But, I’m afraid that as soon as I do that, there will be another ding to deal with.

It’s just a nuisance, a reminder of frustrating mistakes. Every time I look at the car all I see are the pimples.

I’ll probably get them fixed, but not just yet.

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