A taxi hit my car, my Bridget, today.
6:55 a..m. On the route to work, mindlessly listening to the radio, not the Seal CD that I have been listening to only since I bought it last week, and wham! I'm hit. My little car is being bent.
Well, it wasn't actually a 'wham.' I saw its' yellow newness coming at me in my side view mirror. It was coming fast. I looked ahead and had no options. Traffic. Five lanes of traffic moving toward the tunnel that is always the slow down during peak travel times. Like a waltz, the taxi engaged. Pushed me over. I swerved toward a car on the right, but was able to steer back into my lane.
Back and forth. Side to side. Swaying to the rhythm of life moving. Safe. No five car pile up on my account ... I know how to dance.
But how is it that my car has also had a bus ask it to dance? It was before Bridget, and the accordioned middle moved me across the floor as it maneuvered across the lanes. That was a rough one. It didn't pay attention to me and left me with a flat tire.
What will be next? A police car? A fire truck? A train? Zut alors! I can only imagine how my toes will feel after that tango.
Insurance? It will unbend Bridget. It replaced the other's tire. But what of me? How will I move to next?