We have this little “joke” in our house. Whenever there is a car parked in the driveway*–which is often these days, what with the older boy having his own car and all–anyone who leaves the house to get in a car and drive away gets the warning, “Don’t hit so-and-so’s car! haha!” It doesn’t matter if Jim or I parked outside of the garage for some odd reason, or if Julesie is visiting, or if it’s just the aforementioned older boy’s car, parked in its normal space at the lower left end of the driveway, the warning is the same:

Don’t hit it!

HAHA!

You can imagine my surprise when, the other day, I hit the older boy’s car. Oopsie.

*sputter, sputter*

Let me explain!

So it goes like this. The older boy’s car is parked on the left side of the driveway, at the bottom near the sidewalk. My car is always parked in the garage, also on the left side. Whenever I leave, if he’s home, I have to do a fancy “s” shape when I pull out of the garage, down the driveway, and into the street, in order to clear his car.

And I’ve done that, hundreds of times, since he bought the car last August.

Well, uh, the other day I was leaving to take the younger boy and a teammate to their indoor lacrosse practice. We got in the car, put on our seat belts (buckle up for safety, folks!), and were involved in a great conversation about how great the fundraiser was going. As I slowly backed straight out of the driveway, chitter-chattering away, I saw the older boy standing at the bay window in the living room, watching us leave.

How great of him, to see us off!

*waving at him*

INSERT SOUND OF IMPACT, HERE.

(crash)

I put my foot on the brake** and slowly looked up at the house, at the bay window. Yup, he was still there, giving me the look that screamed “WTH?????

And then, quick as a flash, he wasn’t at the window any more, because he was on his way outside. I put the car in Park and got out. Well, I did that after I pulled forward a little bit.

He rushed outside and this is what I had to say, with a big smile on my face:

“OOPS!”

There was no damage on the car; the only evidence of the contact my car made with his was the license plate, which was, um, not as straight as it was before.

I said, “Sorry about that! I can grab a mallet later and fix your license plate.”

Shockingly enough, though he was clearly not happy about this situation, he said, “Nah, that’s okay, it’s fine. See you later!”

And then I pulled forward into the garage, and pulled back out, making that “s” and NOT hitting the older boy’s car.

HAHA.

*Why do we say “in the driveway”? We don’t say “on the garage”, do we? Hmm.
**Not that I needed to, because, um, I wasn’t going anywhere, what with a bright red Eagle Talon in my way.

©2010 Suburban Scrawl