It's been a milestone morning.
I woke up early. Got ready, taking my time, to go see my chiropractor before grabbing some lunch and then heading to my parents' so that I could take them to the airport. However, as I'm driving thru the parking lot that my chiropractor shares with Great Clips and what was formerly Mailboxes Etc... some chick backs out of a parking space and slams into the side of my car.
Actuall, "slams" isn't the best word to describe the experience. She was driving what I believe to be a Honda delSol, relatively recent year... and I drive a 1969 4-door Chevrolet Impala. I'm driving along, looking for a parking spot close enough to the office, but easy enough to maneuver into/out of, and then heard the
screeeeeeee of metal on metal - almost like fingernails on a chalkboard. I glanced over my shoulder to figure out what the fuck the sound was, and when I saw a little black car playing tag with mine, I step on the brakes. If she had "slammed" into my car, I probably would have stopped a lot sooner.
She was young, I'd say around 20, and neither of us had been in an accident before. Her first question to me was if I was ok. Mine to her was what are we supposed to do...?
Anyway, I skipped lunch to visit my insurance company, and after getting back from the airport called her insurance company to file the claim.
Is there some sort of irony or humor in going to see a chiropractor, and
then getting into an accident?
