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My son has the sense Goddess gave gravel.
Dec. 20th, 2022 04:05 pmLately, Tuesday is when the Wendling shows up for dinner and his three days a week in the apartment under the Devil Girl House. It snowed yesterday and today, enough to make driving on side streets in Seattle a questionable idea.
He has a cold. He needed tissues with lotion, he said. He missed the turn for an arterial to get off Phinney Ridge. He took a side street.
In other words, he tried to drive down Phinney Ridge. In the snow. In a Prius, which you can't even put chains on.
He lost control of the car and crashed it into the low brick wall of a raised bed. He's fine, if rattled. AAA has towed the car to the Devil Girl House, where it's being lowered into a parking space as I type.
The owner of the raised bed told him not to worry about it, and said his wife hated the plants therein. But that's the least of my worries. The car's front bumper is gone. At least one tire is blown. And I don't know how bad the rest of the damage is. It isn't driveable. Even if the car is repairable, it'll take weeks.
The tow truck driver says cars with damage that looks less severe have been declared totaled. I believe him, because I've seen it happen. The driver also warned us that the air bags could deploy at any time if we turn the car on.
Welp, I always wanted my son to commute on the bus for several reasons, and I guess he's going to now, unless his mother is awfully generous with her car.
One real problem, though, is Ex's stepmother way out in the 'burbs. She doesn't move around too well, and the Wendling has been driving to her place once or twice a week to walk her dog and otherwise step and fetch.
Honestly, I'm too agog at the idiocy to yell at him very much. It's also near freezing and I don't want to bother getting dressed for that. And I'm a little cheesed off at Ex for sending him across town in the first place. Yeah, she needs a break from him, I get that, but this is too much to pay for one.
Edited to add: I was wrong about where he was going when he crashed. He'd already gotten the tissues. He was headed to PCC for a copy of The Economist.
At one point as I was making dinner for us, he asked me to stop laughing at him. "Oh wait," he said. "This is crazy laughing, isn't it?"
I nodded as I teared up.
He has a cold. He needed tissues with lotion, he said. He missed the turn for an arterial to get off Phinney Ridge. He took a side street.
In other words, he tried to drive down Phinney Ridge. In the snow. In a Prius, which you can't even put chains on.
He lost control of the car and crashed it into the low brick wall of a raised bed. He's fine, if rattled. AAA has towed the car to the Devil Girl House, where it's being lowered into a parking space as I type.
The owner of the raised bed told him not to worry about it, and said his wife hated the plants therein. But that's the least of my worries. The car's front bumper is gone. At least one tire is blown. And I don't know how bad the rest of the damage is. It isn't driveable. Even if the car is repairable, it'll take weeks.
The tow truck driver says cars with damage that looks less severe have been declared totaled. I believe him, because I've seen it happen. The driver also warned us that the air bags could deploy at any time if we turn the car on.
Welp, I always wanted my son to commute on the bus for several reasons, and I guess he's going to now, unless his mother is awfully generous with her car.
One real problem, though, is Ex's stepmother way out in the 'burbs. She doesn't move around too well, and the Wendling has been driving to her place once or twice a week to walk her dog and otherwise step and fetch.
Honestly, I'm too agog at the idiocy to yell at him very much. It's also near freezing and I don't want to bother getting dressed for that. And I'm a little cheesed off at Ex for sending him across town in the first place. Yeah, she needs a break from him, I get that, but this is too much to pay for one.
Edited to add: I was wrong about where he was going when he crashed. He'd already gotten the tissues. He was headed to PCC for a copy of The Economist.
At one point as I was making dinner for us, he asked me to stop laughing at him. "Oh wait," he said. "This is crazy laughing, isn't it?"
I nodded as I teared up.
