the magnet

This weekend has all come crashing down and I don't know how to deal with it. In fact it got to the point last night when jerry bonked me in the head I just stood there and started to cry.

Part I. Big toe prints

Friday night was a blast. I decided to celebrate after writing more than 8 pages and doing a ton of editing on my thesis. So we all went out. I stubbed my big toe. I left little red big toe prints on the sidewalk all the way to the bars. And all the way back.

Part II. Squish

I apparently attempted to fly by running down some stairs, missing a few and landing on my back. I squished my back muscle pretty bad and hit my forearm muscles so hard there is a bruise from my elbow to the middle of my forearm.

Part III. One-shoe McGee

We went climbing yesterday, but I could only wear one shoe. And I could only grip the rock with my right hand because of the damage I had done to my left forearm muscles. And I couldn't wear my harness because it hit my back where I had squished it. So I was bummed and I felt wimpy and lame. But it was still fun and beautiful and relaxing on the boulders overlooking the ocean.

Part IV. Trauma center.

On the way home we passed a terrible accident on the road. A motorcycle vs. who-knows-what sort of accident. The kind they surround with multiple fire engines and ambulances and cop cars so no one can see what happened. But we saw the man on the stretcher immobilized. And we saw the helicopter coming to take him to the trauma center in Santa Rosa. And I wondered about why I knew where the nearest trauma center was to this stretch of coast. I knew because that helicopter probably flew my grandma to that hospital.

Part V. hit

And as we turned into the driveway of Milo's house to drop him off, I heard tires screech behind me. I heard Andrew say 'turn, turn now'. I heard the impact. My feet flew off the pedals and my head hit the seat. I saw a flash of car out of the corner of my eye. I heard the car screech away. I heard Andrew and Milo say are they leaving? Did they just take off? Did they just hit us and take off?

I pulled out of the road. Milo and Andrew jumped out of the car. A neighbor had heard the accident, was already in his car and had seen the assholes drive off with a flat tire. So he turned around and went to find them. Then Milo went to find them.

Part VI. Run

They couldn't drive far with the flat tire they had from their wild ride into our car, then into oncoming traffic and over the curb, onto the embankment and back onto the road. They had pulled over to change the tire. Milo blocked them in with his truck. They tried to get away by going through the person's property but couldn't get out. They came back to where Milo was parked. The cops still hadn't shown up. The assholes tried to ram his truck. They got away. He followed in a high-speed chase, honking his horn. He tracked them to a horse ranch where they opened the gate, one of them got into a brand new fancy car with someone else. The other two disappeared. Milo came back home.

Part VII. Dispatch.

All the neighbors heard it. Some saw it happen. All of them called the police. Then all the people that witnessed the high-speed chase called the police, each telling a different story. The cops were confused. They should have been there when the assholes were changing their flat tire. They went to the wrong places. By the time they got to where Milo had tracked them, they were gone. The car was gone.

Part IIX. No paper trail.

If all our guesses are right, the 3 men in the car are illegal immigrant workers. And we suppose if they were caught they would be deported for reckless, and drunk driving, hit and run, etc. Though Milo got a good look at them, there were no identifying characteristics. They were Hispanic, short brown hair, and medium stature, not super muscled, dressed in Sunday clothes. He doesn't know which one was driving. Their supposed boss at the horse ranch would be charged for harboring and hiring illegal immigrants. And I found myself feeling bad. I don't want them to be deported. I want them in jail for a bit, along with the guys that helped them get away. And I want my car fixed. And I don't want to deal with it. but i'm glad everyone is okay, as far as we know.

Part IX. The magnet.

My car has two names: 1) the magnet 2) camy, short for chameleon.

1) we call it the magnet because it has been hit so many times. My dad hit a deer when it was pretty new, it rolled up and over the entire car, denting the roof and smashing the front. It has been hit in parking lots and on the street when it was parked. It has been in a hit and run in Fremont when a man turned illegally, rammed the driver side door and took off. It has been flooded with water due to a leaky seal in the back window. And it was home to a plethora of mold for a while. And yesterday it was hit again.

2) The chameleon is a reference to a hilarious Saturday night live car advertisement. It has luxury leather seats on the inside, a remote locking device, and an amazing anti-theft system. The car looks like shit on the outside.

My sister and I got the car in 1994 or 1995. She drove it for the first decade. I just got it a month or two ago. And we love that car. And right now it is sitting in Milo's driveway feeling wrecked and sad. And it is probably totaled because it isn't worth anything. And soon it will be on its way to the body shop where they will tell me that there is thousands of dollars worth of damage, and my car is worth less than $500. at which point I will smile and say thanks and drive (hopefully, if the gas tank isn't damaged) the magnet back to our house here. And the insurance companies probably won't cover it because our deductible might be worth more than the car.

Part X.

And my license expires in less than a week. And my car insurance policy has to be renewed on the 1st, and my health insurance expires on the 1st and one of my housemates is moving out and so I'll have to cover my mortgage... just a few more reasons to add to the fact that I really hate money.