Today has been a day. As you can see from the photo here, I may very soon be a former minivan owner.
At around 2:30 p.m. today I get a call. It's my wife. All I get from here is a harried, "We got in a bad accident. I need you now."
I tell my coworkers I have to go as I grab my jacket and head out the door. Man. So little information leaves a mind to ponder as you make the 20-minute drive across town. My foot was leaden, but my attention was sharp even as my mind played out different horrific scenarios. Were my kids OK? Are they going to be at the hospital by the time I get there?
I pulled up and I saw my wife, my oldest daughter and my son standing next to a friend's SUV. The first thing I say as I exit my car is, "Where's S****?" fearing the worst. My wife points to the SUV and says she's inside.
Fortunately, everyone is OK. My wife tried to make a left turn across a busy street. She thought it was clear. It wasn't. My oldest was sitting next to that crushed door. My stomach sickens at the thought of what could have happened.
I will be driving Fords the rest of my life.
That door is crushed. The frame below is slightly dented. The rear fender is trashed. The front door there is messed up. The frame surrounding the front passenger and sliding door is bent. I am thinking it's going to be totaled. I can't imagine the cost of repairs being less than the vehicle's worth.
The irony? We were about to pay off the van with our tax return. We were hoping to get a couple of more years out of it. Best laid plans, eh?