Some Things You Just Don't Joke About
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," thanking every pantheon that our daughter The Heir is safe and sound!
Ah, well, The Heir navigated the trusty 1994 Ford Escort home from a Monkey Man-led puppet show and poetry reading last night. Mom had sipped a few.
Today The Heir drove alone to her summer job, and on the way home she blundered, and the trusty Ford is ... well.
But that doesn't matter, because The Heir didn't even get a scratch.
Some people drive their cars. We at "The Gods Are Bored" have relationships with cars. We've driven our 1994 Escort for five years with nothing more than routine maintenance. We've plastered her with Pagan and Appalachian bumper stickers -- and amendments to the U.S. Constitution. We adore that car!
But an accident was overdue. This is New Jersey.
Yes, this is New Jersey, where a novice teen driver can make a blunder, get broadsided, and the wronged driver gets out, looks at his car, tells her (in thick foreign English) that she should be more careful, and drives away.
Right now The Heir is upstairs sleeping. The mom is trying desperately not to contemplate life without The Heir. The Escort is in the driveway.
Does anyone know if 1994 Ford Escorts are made of good American steel? Because if they are, a body shop might be able to knock everything but the passenger door back into place.
C'mon all you guys out there. Leave a comment before the New Jersey body shop guy tries to fleece the fleas off my hide.
My daughter is safe. My car still runs. Thank you, guardian Goddess Queen Brighid the Bright!
Beannachd leat to all,
THE MERLIN WHO MISSES COUNTRY DRIVING