OK, so this is long, but it's funny. At least I think so.
So the big joke ever since I moved to rural Vermont from urban Florida is that my Forester is all of a sudden constantly getting dings on it.
Dings in the parking lot of where I work, dings in the parking lots of the local gas stations and supermarkets. Even a ding when I went to Wal-Mart (I have to drive 40 minutes to a Wal-Mart!), and parked WAAAAY in the back of the parking lot, only to come out and find (no joke!) an ancient woman, sitting in the passenger seat of her circa 1974 Dodge Pickup, on oxygen, with her door open and touching my car. Yep, big red mark in my door.
So, the other day I pull up to work and notice that the very end spot is open, and that the car parked in the next-to-end spot is that of a coworker who won't be leaving all day. So I think, "OK, I'll try to park up near the building ONE last time", mainly because the car was going to be so protected from everything...
So get this. About 2:30 my friend comes down to my office and says, "Uh, Tyler? You need to come upstairs." I follow him upstairs, and say, jokingly, "What, did somebody try to squeeze past my car and hit it?" And he says, "Um, well, sort of. Except it was a mailbox."
As it turns out, a local kid was driving his circa 1974 Porsche up the steep hill outside (Route 30), lost control on the wet road, fishtailed into the office's mailbox, launched the effing 10 pound mailbox off its wooden post, flung it 40 feet...40 FEET...through the air, and it one-hopped right smack into my left rear bumper. Just like a large, black, rectangular, 10 pound golf ball.
There's now literally a big rectangular black mark that's all scratched and chipped from where the mailbox hit.
The joke has now morphed into a curse! :icon_evil:
Just thought I'd share...:Banane35:
So the big joke ever since I moved to rural Vermont from urban Florida is that my Forester is all of a sudden constantly getting dings on it.
Dings in the parking lot of where I work, dings in the parking lots of the local gas stations and supermarkets. Even a ding when I went to Wal-Mart (I have to drive 40 minutes to a Wal-Mart!), and parked WAAAAY in the back of the parking lot, only to come out and find (no joke!) an ancient woman, sitting in the passenger seat of her circa 1974 Dodge Pickup, on oxygen, with her door open and touching my car. Yep, big red mark in my door.
So, the other day I pull up to work and notice that the very end spot is open, and that the car parked in the next-to-end spot is that of a coworker who won't be leaving all day. So I think, "OK, I'll try to park up near the building ONE last time", mainly because the car was going to be so protected from everything...
So get this. About 2:30 my friend comes down to my office and says, "Uh, Tyler? You need to come upstairs." I follow him upstairs, and say, jokingly, "What, did somebody try to squeeze past my car and hit it?" And he says, "Um, well, sort of. Except it was a mailbox."
As it turns out, a local kid was driving his circa 1974 Porsche up the steep hill outside (Route 30), lost control on the wet road, fishtailed into the office's mailbox, launched the effing 10 pound mailbox off its wooden post, flung it 40 feet...40 FEET...through the air, and it one-hopped right smack into my left rear bumper. Just like a large, black, rectangular, 10 pound golf ball.
There's now literally a big rectangular black mark that's all scratched and chipped from where the mailbox hit.
The joke has now morphed into a curse! :icon_evil:
Just thought I'd share...:Banane35: