Saturday we did the split, Sean took Aidan with him to the dump while I took Clare to the grocery store. When we arrived I got my reusable bags out of the back of the van and waited for Clare to get out of her seat, push the automatic door closer button and jump out- just in the nick of time.
A few minutes after we got into the store we both had to go to the bathroom. As we made our way there, a man's voice came over the loud speaker. "Will the person driving a black or dark, SUV or minivan, license plate # blah, blah, blah, please come to the Customer Service Desk." I hear his announcement and think, well maybe it could be me but I mean come on who can mistake a minivan for an SUV? And who has their license plate memorized? Then he says the announcement again, but this time adds, "It has SOCCER written on the back of it." Oh, that's not mine. I don't have anything written on the back of
my dark or black minivan.
We take our time perusing the isles of the store and picking out all the delicious treats our little hearts desire. As we head out the automatic doors and I look out to the parking lot at my car, there it is..... in perfect print, all caps, across my back window for all the world to see... SOCCER MOM. First, I laugh and curse one of the girls I work with who has threatened to find the biggest soccer ball magnet she can and put it on my van. Then I get to the car and check it out. Hum... nothing looks wrong to me. I figured I just left one of the doors open, cause sometimes I push a wrong button or two as I lock the doors, and that some kind soul just closed it for me.
Clare and I march back into the store to find out what went on with our precious vehicle while we were shopping. Of course, there is no one at the customer service desk and since I'm impatient and nothing seemed wrong we headed back out. As I was waiting for Clare to buckle up a nice woman came over to me and told me that she was the one who alerted customer service that someone hit my car and drove away. It was apparently an old lady, "too old to be driving" who could not get out of the spot and tapped the front of my van. She gave me the plate # but I didn't see any damage so I just left it alone.
The irony is that when I got home and told Sean he checked out the van and saw a spot where it looked like the waxy finish rubbed off. He says, "What's that?" I said, "Oh, that's from where I hit the cone yesterday." "Well HOW FAST WERE YOU GOING?" he asks. "Like 60 mph, I was on Muddy Creek Road." His response (as he shakes his head), "I thought you said you hit a cone." I said, "I did!" I just happened to leave out the fact that I hit it going 60 mph! DUH!
