So if u want to inject a little humor into a bad situation,everytime u get dinged,get a magic marker,draw a big black circle around the ding,number it (#1,#2,etc) and write a description in the circle-ie Drunk mofo,or dumb blonde,etc.At least u and other peeps will get a laugh out of it.BJ
I looked at your pictures. . .and
read your post. . .and it
reminded me of some things.
Maybe it's not so bad. . .
The side light didn't get
damaged. . .
The headlight rim didn't get
damaged. . .
The bumper didn't get damaged. .
.or the core support, . . or the
radiator.
so you can still drive it and get
the good gas mileage. . .
You can't see it while you are
driving.
I think about people who buy
BRAND NEW cars and go to the
grocery store, and when they come
out they find a grocery cart has
run into the side of their
vehicle.
Instead of a new shiny thing,
they have a new shiny thing with
a ding.
I think about the three or four
windshields I have had to put in
my truck due to breakage after
rocks hit them, usually about 2
months after installation. The
latest one has a lateral crack
just above the wipers, so it's
not as glaring, but it will still
get me a ticket from law
enforcement. I found that out
during my last meeting with them
on the side of the road, but it
was only a warning, so I am kind
of thankful about that.
I still think about the woman
using the cellphone who punted me
off my motorcycle at about 20 mph
when I slowed for a turn and she
ignored my brakelight as I slowed
down for the turn. Years later i
still get upset when I deal with
the recurrent back pain and the
fact that she showed a fake
insurance paper to the officer
when he asked her for proof of
insurance.
I think about a kid named Joseph
who was sold into slavery, and
when he got out, he got accused
of attempted rape and spent many
more years in prison because of
it. He never lost a positive
attitude.
I think about my friend Bob who
died at 43 due to diabetic
complications. Two years before
he passed on, he went blind in
spite of his medical effort at
managing the illness. That would
be a hard thing to live with.
While he was productive, Bob was
a painter. He would never paint
all the bricks on the exterior of
a house. He would always leave
one brink unpainted, near the
bottom, behind a bush or
something where it wasn't really
obvious.
I asked him about that once. He
told me, "There is nothing
perfect in this world. An
unpainted brick reminds us of
that." I asked him, how do you
respond when the owner of the
house says something to you about
it?. He said, "I hand them the
brush."