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Ξ May 4th, 2010 | → 0 Comments | ∇ how do you like your MINI, screeds |

One normally doesn’t see MINI Coopers out there in the wild with dents and dings and scratches. They are an unblemished population. In fact, I am pretty sure the only dirty MINI I have ever seen is my own, a situation that rarely lasts longer than 48 hours.
Driving around in a banged-up MINI is weird and makes me a little (more) self-conscious. It’s like wearing really nice clothes with spaghetti sauce all over them. I want to put a sign on it or yell at regular intervals out the window: “It wasn’t my fault!”
Actually, I’m more relaxed about it now that the insurance process/estimate/parts ordering is all underway and the MINI will soon be restored to mostly full-blown MINI-ness. (I say mostly because the dings on the back that WERE my fault require a $500 deductible that is the seemingly most impossible sum of money to save in the history of xty.) (The back dings are a result of backing out of a parking space, distracted by being stoned and about to see a woman I was into, and into a truck. I am, of course, now reminded of this chick I am not dating every time I approach my car.)
The accident last week was, as all accidents, a great big ball of unfortunateness, of which I suffered the least. I hit two people on a scooter after they were catapulted into my path by the first car that hit them. Poor folks were hit by two cars. (They did not sustain major injuries, thanks to the relatively low speeds involved.)
Some time well after the event I realized that it was probably ten or fifteen minutes into it – after ambulance arrived and I had stopped shaking a little- that I noticed my car and thought “Oh, car’s hurt. I might need a tow.” Not being a paragon of self-love lately, I was relieved to know that when something real happened, my thoughts were not of myself first. Relieved and, sadly, surprised.
$3500 worth of damage to a MINI
Yellow chevette. Mom gave it to me. Her name was the Chevette.. Had a head on collision in it. At 50 mph. No seatbealt. A couple scars. My grandfather made sure to get the stereo out of it. (We’d spent an entire hot summer Saturday together installing it.)
Blue Isusu impulse. Big brother gave it to me. Her name was Glamdring the Foehammer. That’s all you need to know.
Copper Buick Regal. Only saw about 2 others that color. ever. I guess they made 3. She was named Glamdring the Foehammer. I had her a long time. She was stolen from me, then recovered.
White Dodge Spirit. My father gave it to me. Remained nameless. I loved having it.
White Delta 88. Her name was Glamdring the Foehammer. My father gave that car to me too. The engine burned up one day.
The MINI. I got it on my own. Her name is “My MINI. Don’t ask how I like it…that’s a dumb question.”
the songs. always the songs.
my brother
my sincerity
my legs (they’re great. thanks to karen and kim for ensuring I keep em)
rainy days when I don’t have to run.
cats
all cats.
sorrow
Duran Duran
mom
the MINI
blogging
jeans
loud music
very very loud music
documetaries esp of Fred Morris
spelling, language, and grammar
facebook
the voice of bon scott
great coffee
time healing
new clothes
my eyes
telling people to fuck off – politely
getting told ok
tree silhouettes
robert deniro in the day
guitar solos
hamburgers
bicycles
great, gorgeous bicycles.
white skies
my MINI
not being asked how I like my MINI
keyboard shortcuts
computer hardware repair
reading
reading a lot and talking about books with others
cranking the stereo
drinking
not drinking
lifting weights
being well groomed
my Phobia! Yay! I love her!
realizing
simplifying
the famosity of my list about losing my car on coxe avenue
my desk
Marcus!
old videos
cutoff jeans – fuck bermudas, Jerry
low light
dusk
summer – summer best of all.
that one day it will be ok
that day is here