Not Graceful

Before any man captured my attention, before I adopted Stormy, before I lived on my own, my car was my one and only love. The day I owned her outright remains was one of the happiest of my life.

As much as I love my VW, the trunk of my car has been.... well, not entirely functional. For a while. About a year. Okay, maybe more. Because my Ex was the only person who was able to successfully close the trunk of my car.

So, I've just spent the past year or so not using the trunk of my car. (I haven't wanted to find out how much it would cost to fix, okay?)

"It opens like a DeLorian" I've joked to friends and coworkers about the strange diagonal-angled opening that accompanied the usual unlatching of my VW's storage compartment. "Just use the backseat! We'll hide your things, this neighborhood is safe, no worries!"

Or, on occasion. I'd use the trunk, but caution at its potential lack of usefulness, but add "Hey, no worries, it can be closed safely. Just ... um, give me a moment...." as I wrestled with the pesky corner that generally refused to close properly.

It was with one such flippant remark that I did something remarkable this afternoon:

I shattered my rear windshield.

This was not something I had expected as a possible side effect of having a slightly malfunctioning car trunk.

I had stored two storage boxes, two roller suitcases, a duffel bag and a backpack in the car's roomy trunk. Then asked my Office Spouse, coworker and coworkers husband to step back as I valiantly attempted to wrangle that tricky corner of the trunk closed so we could drive to a meeting.

Clunk...creeeeeeak



"Wait... wait... what's happening?" exclaimed my coworkers' husband in disbelief.

I froze. I stared at the growing spiderweb pattern.

"What IS happening?" asked my Office Spouse, impatient to get on the road.

"I... think.... I think I .... I just .... just ... broke my, my ..." I stammered.

I wanted to cry. My car. My fully paid-off darling girl. HOW COULD I HAVE DONE THIS TO HER?

With a calm that belied my inner fury at myself, (and my inability to take my eyes off the spiraling spiderweb pattern) I said "Okay. Let's unload, lets go back upstairs..."

"... and we'll figure it out from there," finished my Office Spouse.

We rented a car.  As I write this, my coworkers and I are preparing for our meeting. I've arranged for my car to be fixed by a mobile repair unit.

Once things were settled with the insurance company and we were on the road, I called my father to tell him what happened.

"Well, my dear," he said, "That was not very ... graceful of you."

I agreed, and added,  "But hey, I bet you didn't know a trunk could do that to a rear view window!"