Vehicular Hijinx

As you may or may not know (and if you're reading this, you probably know without HAVING to read this) I was involved in a car accident on December 30, 2006. My brother, survivor of the Great Buick Crash of Three Days Previous, was in the passenger seat.



Tommy, Ashley bless his adamantium laced skeleton and organic steel skin, is still fine. He's pulling dice-sized hunks of glass out of his scalp with pliers, but he's okay, other than he has a gap in his head where they stitched the glass in.



We had been marveling that day (and the days between the accidents as well as pretty much every other day) at how infathomably STUPID people are when they get behind the wheel of an automobile. There we were, leaving Wal*Mart, waiting at the light, when a douchebag in a Ford Explorer decides he can't stay away from the incredible bargains any longer than he has to, so he runs the red light to make a left on red.



He didn't make it. Oh, don't get me wrong, the piece of shit survived unhurt, I mean he didn't make the light, and all those impossibly low prices would remain out of his reach, at least for that night. The car that hit him didn't fare much better.



She hadn't even considered slowing down, I guess, once the light turned green, and locked her brakes up, laying down some of Detroit's finest rubber in a futile attempt to stop, but alas, one second I'm telling my brother "look at this asshole about to get hit" and the next, I'm starring in Sergio Leone's "A Chest Full of Airbag."


(Warning: Some injuries may have been photoshopped in for dramatic effect.)

I was taken to the hospital complaining of chest and back pain. My sternum was bruised, and that has healed nicely. My back, however, is another saga. Now I am out of work, and in pain. Even the slightest motion of my back causes some pain, and it looks like I'll be sidelined for a month at least in therapy, according to my doctor. I start Friday. My poor car, I found out the next day, is dead. The airbags deployed, which would cost me more than I paid for the car to get replaced, not to mention the hood is mashed into the engine, the lights are toast, the grill is gone, and the fenders are smashed in.



My poor, poor baby. But there has been some good come of this. Witht he arrival of my Letter of Appointment, I was able to get some of my father's affairs in order, and managed to pay off, insure, register, and finally claim the prize possession of my inheritance; my new Jeep.



I have yet to name her. Gretchen was German, but this new one is American made, so she needs an American name. I'll get a better feel for her personality over the next few weeks. Better photos to come, but I wanted to post this tonight. (And yes, I'm playing with my other toy, my digital camera. It was just time for me to rejoin the world of photography.)

So you're caught up.