Wig-Out Wednesday

I know this will shock absolutely none of my five readers (especially since one of you follows me twice) but I. Am. A. Terrible. Driver. Which is ironic considering my own wrath directed at other drivers on the roads in Atlanta but I figure being a bad driver just goes with the territory of having a life in shambles. Along with having the misfortune of being in the wrong place in the wrong time and panicking in the wrong fashion thus making bad situations worse. In my defense, I at least know the basics of green means go, red means stop, yellow means get the fuck out of the way, the left lane is for people moving fast (as in faster than you so get the fuck over), blinkers are used to let other drivers know your intention to move through traffic in a horizontal fashion and just because you want to be in a lane doesn’t mean you get to be in said lane if someone else is already there.

But sometimes, my own misfortune -and inability to judge distance when in panic mode- gets the best of me. Take for example this past Saturday, when I tapped another car in the parking lot after some dickhead almost backed into me after I pulled out of my spot. I immediately pulled into an empty spot and jogged over to look at the other parked car. I didn’t see any damage but just to be on the safe side, I went to my car to look for a pen and paper to leave a note. Below is said note:

To Whom it May Concern:

I am very sorry to have to say this but I tapped your car as I was backing out of my spot. I am unsure of what damage I may have caused so here is my contact information. Please call me if we will need to file this with insurance as I would like to be sure you and your car are properly taken care of.

Thanks,
Berryfine
XXX-XXX-XXXX

I know this is what the note says because said note is still in my possession. Why would I write a note and not deliver it you ask? Well, because the asshole whose car I had the misfortune of tapping turned out to be sitting right there on a patio watching this entire episode. Below is the letter I would like to leave instead had I the opportunity to go back in time:

Dear Dickhead Who’s Car I Bumped,

Unfortunately, I am hung the fuck over and panicked after some asshole almost hit my car. In my haste to ensure my car was not hit, I accidentally hit the gas and reversed my car into your bumper going the insane speed of 1 mile an hour. Lucky for me, your car is a piece of shit.

Knowing you car is a piece of shit, I had two options. I could have been a bitch and driven off. Or I could be a considerate person and try to determine what damage, if any, I caused. Then, I could leave a note with my contact information so that your car could be taken care of. I chose the latter course of action and BOY. DO. I. REGRET. IT.

What the fuck was I thinking going inside a restaurant to get a pen after I was unable to locate one in my car? This, of course, is after I opt to pull into a spot and even take the time to leave you a note in the first place. After borrowing a pen from a woman who doesn’t even speak English and writing you a note explaining what had happened and how to reach me, how dare I think I should put this note on your car? What a bitch I am!

Then again, I never reached your vehicle to leave my apology. The minute I cleared the door, your punk ass yelled “Did you just hit my fucking car?” Well Captain Obvious, considering you were sitting there enjoying your $6 Panda Express with your fugly Carvel shirt wearing girlfriend and saw the whole thing, did I really need to answer that question? Furthermore, why didn’t you pipe up the minute you saw me park and move to check the damage of your car? Were you waiting to see what my next move was? Well, I imagine if I didn’t speed off pretending it never happened then the plan was to leave information for the owner of the car. So you could have saved us both some time and stepped up to the plate immediately at which point I would have handed over my insurance card for your perusal.

Instead, you and your 19-year-old, I-think-I-know-everything-ass, decided it would be far more productive and beneficial for both of us if you belittled and berated me for what was clearly an accident. Upset I can understand. But going bat shit crazy over what amounted to absolutely nothing and scathingly asking me if I did damage to your car is a bit overdramatic. It’s not like your car was totaled and I drove away. Your car had nary a scratch that hadn’t previously been on it and I still made sure I was making necessary information available for you. So dial your attitude down a notch. Trust me when I say your 1986 Toyota what the fuck ever it is ain’t worth the money my insurance information is printed on.

Throughout this entire ordeal, I was nice enough to apologize and repeatedly offer you my contact information and insurance card. You were so pissed you cut off your nose to spite your face and said “Whatever.” Whatever? Well, whatever right back at you buddy. I tried to behave like an adult and you behaved like a 5 year old who got pissed when he went to the store to pick out a toy and couldn’t narrow it down in the allotted time so went home with nothing.I'd also like to thank you for your sarcastic "Drive carefully." when I walked back to my own car. I think what you meant was, next time you hit a car in the parking lot, don't dillydally, drive the fuck away. The best part about this whole situation? You waited until I drove away to get your scrawny ass out of your chair and amble over to even look at your car. At which point you started pointing out imaginary damage that my plastic bumper caused your steel car at a whopping 1 mile an hour. I hope like hell I was wrong and there is a shit ton of damage to your car that you cannot afford to fix, you douche bag.

Sincerely,
Berryfine

PS. Get a fucking haircut.