Mother FUCK

So Mike and I were sitting around this evening when we heard a loud crash. At first I thought it was thunder, but Mike dispelled that notion when he yelled, "Shit, that's your car!"

We ran to the window and sure enough, someone was parked crooked in the street and the rear of my car was closer to the curb than when I had originally parked. Mike went outside, and after a second I followed.

In my bathrobe. Because I'm classy that way.

We saw a kid, maybe 17 or 18, pacing around the sidewalk across the street. He asked if that was my car and I yelled back that it was. Then I went back into the house to put on some clothes. This looked like it would take awhile.

So we called the cops and surveyed the damage. The driver-side of my bumper - caved in. My hubcap - dented. My rear quarter panel - dented. My driver-side rear door - scratched and dented. Lovely. With the damage from my previous accident (a missing side-view mirror and a dented front quarter-panel) the driver's side of my car is one long trail of destruction.

The kid is, of course, uninsured. He was driving his sister's car and she does have insurance, but she was screaming about wanting to press charges because he "stole" her car since he took it without asking. And although I do have collision coverage on my car, I'd rather not shell out the $500 deductible to fix what somebody else did. To add to my vexation the claims department of my insurance company is now closed (I didn't even have time to give them all my information!) and the cop who said he would take my statement drove off without doing so, and also without giving me any information about the other driver.

Sigh. This is not what I needed. Not this weekend, not ever.

Fuck.