On a recommedation by The Morning News, I was visting Wrecked Exotics when the phone rang. Imagine my surprise when she says that our car was hit and there was significant damage. Irony? Or just bad coincidence?
Our poor car was doing nothing but sitting in its parking spot, pulled close to the front like it should be. The left rear end of the bumper was dented and the tail light smashed. Pieces of the light cover were strewn across the ground. Streaks of green and beige paint point the finger directly at the garbage pick-up service that empties the bins behind our apartment. I've discussed it with them, but they're not buying it. We tried to get the cops involved, but a more pressing matter arose. Something about a fire in progress, I think. But I got a self-report form and will make sure they get involved. (Fires be damned!)
But the real kicker is the accident my Dad was in last week, also with a garbage truck, and the dent my Mom put in her door on Monday. They say things come in threes. Guess who's lucky number three.