I haven't always crashed cars.
Before June 9, 2010, I had a perfect driving record (there was that time, when I was pregnant and I rolled my car into our dear friends car while they were sitting in it but there was no damage so I don't count that except enough to mention it because I think it's good to be as honest as possible - I don't think they count it either though).
On June 9th I crashed into my brother's car. I was driving up to my parents' house to pick up the family to drive them to the airport and I had my girls with me. I coasted into their street. I was thinking I would park in the driveway but decided that wouldn't give us much room to load the bags in the car so I redirected my van to park it in front of the driveway behind my brother's car. I was thinking I would just reverse my car a little to straighten it out (because I am an anal retentive parker and I wanted to park parallel to the driveway).
My next thoughts went something like this, "Ah, I'm going forward fast! I hit Steve's car! Holy crap! His car is so bashed in and it's still rolling. Please stop rolling. Do I need to get out and try to stop it?" Thankfully the car stopped rolling. Knowing they had a plane to catch and I just screwed up majorly, I jumped out of the car and ran into the house (yes, I left the girls in the car without saying a word to them because I was a slight basket case).
My brother was in the front room as I entered and declared, "Oh my gosh, Steve, I'm so sorry. I just crashed your car." I was beginning to cry and flap my hands (yeah, I do that when I am both super happy or emotional). He gave me a hug and said it was ok (tender moment). He hadn't seen the car. He asked where the girls were and that's when I remembered them (great mothering moment).
We went out to see the girls and assess the damage. Steve saw his car and asked, "How fast were you going?!" I opened the sliding door of the van and the girls just stared and calmly asked what happened. We got the girls out and we all inspected the scene. JJ kept asking why I did that. "You crashed Steve's car."
We were all fine. Our swagger wagon was barely damaged but my brother's Nissan Sentra looked like crap (it turns out I totaled his car). We figure instead of hitting the brake before switching my car in reverse to park perfectly, I hit the gas and parked horrifically.
My brother mentioned that I'm like one of those elderly people that crashes into open markets and kills people (NOT tender moment). That thought has sort of tormented me ever since (I'm not blaming Steve, I thought the same thing when it was mentioned that I must have hit the gas instead.). I feared hitting people with my car even before all of this but there is just more of a reality that I am humanly capable.
The girls remind me of my driving faux pas often still to this day.
JJ - "Don't crash!" "You crash Steve's car?" "Why you crash Steve's car?"
Sarah - we were buckling her in to her carseat and someone asked, "What happens next?" and she replied, "We crash" (that was not the answer they were expecting). Sarah often makes her toys crash and she will physically reenact the crash.
At least they are coping verbally :~).
Fast forward to late July. It's a Tuesday night, Lisa's night, Jonathan watches the girls so I can spend time with friends or do whatever I want to relax. I was running late to meet a friend (same friend who's car I bumped into when I was pregnant) at a coffee shop. I backed out angled instead of straight, forgetting the carport pole on the passenger side of the Saturn. It rips a chunk of plastic off above the tire exposing the metal frame underneath. Luckily there was barely any damage to the carport pole and it did not collapse (as I feared after I realized what I had just done). That's how the Saturn got the name Scarface.
I've seriously contemplated using public transportation considering my unpredictable driving ability lately. Sadly all we have are buses in our area and they are not cost effective for more than one person that already has a car.
My mom says that this is something that can happen while driving under the influence of small children.
Cars are scary and powerful. I've known that for many years. It's one thing to mentally know you are capable of something and another to have physical (embarrassing) proof of what I am capable of. I've tried to really clear my mind of distractions while driving. God, protect us and those around me.
My wise husband reminded me (as I was joking about my sucky driving ability) that my identity is not based by my past mistakes. I am forgiven. I should live in that freedom. He had me choose a day when I would no longer label myself based on my recent driving record. I should be aware of my weaknesses but not dwell in them.
Hello, my name is Lisa, and I am redeemed.
"For
