I was wrong.
She went all Space shuttle on me. Unfortunately she not licensed to operate either a space shuttle or on a person in the Commonwealth. She was driving home on a dark rainy night. She took a turn to fast. Her cigs flew off the passengers seat all over the floor. In a misguided effort to tidy up she kept her left hand on the steering wheel, reached way over to the other side with her right, took her eyes off the road for a hair to long and managed to drive over a cement road thing and take out a sign. In the process she blew out two tires. Dumb. Mother. Fucker. Learn to drive. Stop making fun of me. Bite me. Harder. I love you Man.
That's where I came in. She got back to my house and slept over. The next morning on my way to work I had to drop her at her car. Or so I thought. Before we saw the devastation we couldn't figure out what she could have run over coming around that particular corner. On the way there she said, "What do you think I hit?"
"I couldn't even venture a guess at this point Hunter."
"Let's just hope there are no body parts attached to my bumper." she whispered.
With both eyebrows raised I said, "God willing."
We see her green jeep sitting on the side of the gas station and the left side of the car was significantly higher than the right.
We lost two good men in this one. Two tires down.
"I bet you're rethinking those hair products right about now, huh? That doesn't look cheap." I say.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God. They're going to think I'm an idiot." she said.
"Who, the gas station guys? They've seen worse than this. Now go in and see what's going on. It looks like it's going to take a while."
Out she comes. "I have to go with you. They said it would be a few hours."
Oh good. It's take your child to work day.
Talk about the right time and the right place. As she was waiting for me to be done she heard them saying they were firing the girl who never shows up. Hunter moved in like a lesbian after the first date. She got that job. I've been trying to get her there since she moved here. She has avoided it like the plague. Every day I am teaching a class, her grandmother has to "get her hair done." Every week. Gramma's hair must be a hot mess today. But Hunter has a job.
Hallelujah. Praise hair dye, pedicures and the God of your choice. Hunter is almost legit.
Every cloud (or flat tire) has a silver lining.