This is not a sponsored post though it could be for Toyota. And RACQ. And #bantheparkingbollard.
I ran my husband’s car into a parking pole (bollard is the fancy name) at the shops in front of a crowd of about 20 punters waiting for the doors to open. “Ran” is a fairly mild term to use because I was in a bit of a rush to get into that crowd and usher my first born child up to Myer to get school shoes for the impending Day One of Year 1 and I’d guessed (quite rightly I might add) that it would be a complete Shit Show up there if I timed it wrong. So faced with the possibility of getting almost any park I wanted since it was just me and those 20 other muppets who’d parked thus far, I chose one, then changed my mind and decided to reverse into one instead so that I could complete my cunning “wait for nothing and no one plan” by driving out of that car park real quick when we’d finished. Because reversing is so time consuming isn’t it? No? Well maybe it bloody well should be.
So did I mention I was in a hurry to get those shoes and get the fuck out of those shops? Yes, that’s why I chucked my husband’s 4WD pride and joy into reverse and rammed it with force into that parking bay straight into a little fucking yellow pole which had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS BEING THERE!!! Did Kmart have a sale on yellow poles? Did the maintenance guys get slap happy just before Christmas and throw a few extra in just for shits and giggles? Or more likely, does the local smash repairs guy have a cousin in the shopping centre who kindly placed them randomly about so that the January slow down got a bit quick?
Anyway, we hit this thing with force and here’s how the conversation went:
Boetman: Wot happen??
Me: I just backed Pappa’s car into a pole.
Sussie: Ooooo Mama you’re in so much trouble.
Me: Thanks Sussie #wouldsellmybodypartsforicecream
The car was driveable but I’d bashed the back tray in so far I’d need Jamie Foxx to get it out again. And there was yellow paint everywhere. This was not going to be a quick buff and polish and”Geez people are awful aren’t they? Ding your car and don’t leave their details tsk tsk tsk…” *cough perfect crime cough*
We went inside and got the shoes without incident but with an aimless dawdle through the shops while I plucked up the courage to drive my husband’s disfigured car back home where derision, incredulity and furrowed brows awaited me.
Further to the feelings of absolute frustration and shitfullness was the knowledge that our other car was, at that very moment, at the smash repairs getting some dings repaired (put there by my husband I might add), and just the day before I’d joked about Sussie’s lack of concentration when driving a dodgem car. Nice one.
And then I had a lovely conversation with the RACQ lady who told me about the time she backed her three day old car into a gate. Then we laughed and when she asked me whether I’d been drinking at the time of the accident I said no but maybe we should wrap this up and go to the pub for a wine because this whole banging cars into things is thirsty work. Then we laughed some more.
So at the end of the day it’s not sheep stations. Just really really annoying.