A Sweet DC Kiss
It’s even better than a French kiss
I remember the first time I saw a sweet DC kiss. Last summer, I watched a moving truck take a too-tight turn and ruin an Ohioan’s vacation in Washington DC. Then Metroblogging DC‘s Brownpau saw a serious DC parking lot kiss, offender unknown. And who could forget the Metrobus DC kiss that sent passengers to the emergency room?
Each time, I felt sorry for the recipient and wondered if the kisser got away with their transgression. Or even felt guilt in the subtle hit-and-run style of hitting a parked car and then driving off. Saturday morning, I found the answer the hard way.
In mid-post about Dousing IMF Protestations, I got a call from my next-door neighbour, Joe Martin: “Did you hear that crunch? Sounds like someone just hit your Mom’s truck.”
That’s not the phrase you want to hear when your Mom is in Hawaii, entrusting you with her red Dodge pickup after saying “Now don’t you wreck it. I think of your father every time I drive it.”
Sprinting outside, I found that my new neighbour, in her haste to move in the house she just bought across the street form me, gave me a taste of DC parking problems, a DC kiss of my very own.
The neighbour, apologetic to a fault, was nice enough to be quick with insurance numbers and claim forms. The fender, while bent past salvage, doesn’t hinder driving and can be replaced easy like. Yet the DC kiss did put a bummer on my weekend, and now my week
I have the hassle of looking for a car body repair shop for an estimate to replace the fender and the front right body panel – both are beyond repair. In addition, I’ll have to negotiate with the insurance company which I expect to get sticker shock from DC prices.
The neighbour has her own problems. Good luck if she tries to rent a van again, and she’s now marked at the bad driver on the block.
So while it might sound fun, a DC kiss ain’t – for either party.