Well, I didn’t have the car done to leave as early as I was hoping to, but around 11:30 we finally were ready to leave.
Marge was impressed at how spacious the trunk is.
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Marge was in the car and ready to go when I snapped this picture, little did I know this is the last picture I’d take of the car with all its original sheet metal in good, functional condition.
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We then pulled out to the end of the driveway and I stopped to get out and get the mail. I made the stupid decision to not turn the car off and put it in gear to keep it from rolling backwards, and instead, pressed the brake and had Marge hold the linelock button as a parking brake. As I was half ways across the road, I heard the linelock selenocysteine click and I instantly knew her finger slipped off the button. I ran after the car, almost made it to the door but as I reached my foot in to hit the brake, I lost my balance, fell, nearly getting run over. I spun around and jumped up in time to see the car angle off the driveway and see the open drivers door catch the bank, crumpling the door and almost bending it all the way to the fender. I broke down in the middle of the driveway, Marge got out of the car absolutely hysterical since she first thought I got run over, then realizing the damage done to the car. She apologized over and over and was really beating herself up over it (once things calmed down and we both had a few hours to process, I made sure that she knew it was NOT her fault and I’m in no way angry at her or blame her) I backed the car up to the house and and tried “massaging” the door with a BFH yo at least get it where it was at least functional. After awhile I’d give up, go calm down awhile, then figure I’d try again. After 3 or 4 times of doing this, I finally got the door to where it’ll actually close when I give it a good slam. I took these pictures right before we actually left, around 2:40.
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I’m pretty I went through the 5 stages of grief already. First it was denial. It literally felt like if I concentrated hard enough, I could go back and do things differently. But obviously I can’t.
Then there was anger. Oh, was there anger…. I split my knuckle open by punching the metal side of my shop.
I didn’t go through much of a “bargaining” stage.
Then an hour or two of depression.
And now I’ve moved to acceptance. While it still makes me sick, it is what it is. I didn’t get run over, Marge is ok, the door can/will be fixed even if it won’t match the rest of the car. It is what it is.
On a more positive note, there was a beautiful sunset this evening.
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Due to leaving later and not wanting to get there super late, we decided to go through St Louis after all, since it’s almost 2 hours shorter.
