Yesterday, a snow plow attacked my beloved car, Ivan.
Josie and I were in the car, parked very legally by the school, waiting for Henry and Georgia to come out and meet us. Josie was sitting in the front seat, watching an episode of "Charlie and Lola" on my iphone. I was reading a memoir entitled The Kids are Alright, and if we are going to be really honest, I was not really enjoying it. We were not the only car waiting for children nor were we the first or last car in the queue. We were in the middle of about 25 cars, but, sadly, we were in the right place for some bad, bad luck.
And then... the noise. That horrible sound of metal scraping against metal. The sound of a car being crumpled. There was an enormous bang and then the car vibrated as the plow portion of the snow plow scraped its way from the bottom end of my car to the top.
It was horrifying.
The first impact was here. The tail light was broken.
Then the plow made its way to poor Ivan's gas tank, flattening its perfect door into a pancake.
Then it continued down the side of the car, passing Josie's abandoned seat and the passenger door.
Next, it ground it's way past the driver's side door...
Before finally stopping just past my door handle.
Here's a close up. And yes, that is an actual hole in the metal.
The snow plow also hit the car behind me, but it was a small injury and not the unbelievable mess that was my car. The snow plow driver was incredibly apologetic and the state police were called. Reports were filed, insurance information was exchanged and I drove off with a severely injured automobile. All this while school children were leaving their classes, school buses were being blocked by the snowplow that couldn't move for fear of doing further damage to my car, and the school Principal ran about telling us all to move so that people could leave the school and not bother her anymore with complaints about the not being able to leave the premises. Thank God for our town police, who showed up just in time to calm her down and to direct traffic.
Ivan is convalescing in our garage for the next few days, waiting for the insurance inspector to arrive. I am driving a rental car, whom I have named Olive. She is nice, though her ability to drive in snow is suspect and there is no room in her inside for any more than my children.
It is a sad day in Elliot land. Ivan is beloved by us all and we have grown to count on him to take us wherever we need to go, in whatever weather condition we find ourselves driving in. He is the perfect size and has the perfect number of seats.
I suppose as far as "accidents" go, this one was a good one. For one thing, it was completely not my fault - which is nice. And no one was injured - which is even better. But talk about random! Of all 25 cars parked by the school, MINE gets destroyed by a snow plow? Really?