In 1991 I was driving a shitty little Chevrolet Sprint and slowed down at a pedestrian crosswalk. Shame the moron behind me didn't (no pedestrians were hurt in this incident). I saw him in my rear-view mirror and he only stopped at the last split-second, and I had nowhere to go, so he sent my skidding over the crosswalk, totalling my car. The car, a 3-door hatchback, was not so much crumpled as folded; the spare tire in the trunk was at a 45 degree angle but the hatch wasn't buckled. By some miracle I only suffered sprained abdomen muscles, Four years later I was in my dad's Volkswagen Jetta (loved that car!), the second of 3 cars waiting at a red light, and a drunk crashed into the car behind mine, sending the hit car cascading into mine and me into the car in front. Again, no-one was hurt, but the Jetta was totalled.
When we lived in the Netherlands in the early 1970s my mother drove a Daf 44, a car that would make a Lada feel luxurious. It was my mom's turn to do the school run carpool but as when we walked to the car one front tire was completely flat. Still, we all got in the car and drove off. It was the most lop-sided, bumpiest car ride I've ever had. What struck me, though, even at the age of 5, was how many people on the street were frantically pointing at the flat tire as if we hadn't noticed something was wrong.
Once the older kids were dropped off at their schools my mom drove the car to the garage, where the nice men fixed the tire.
When we lived in the Netherlands in the early 1970s my mother drove a Daf 44, a car that would make a Lada feel luxurious. It was my mom's turn to do the school run carpool but as when we walked to the car one front tire was completely flat. Still, we all got in the car and drove off. It was the most lop-sided, bumpiest car ride I've ever had. What struck me, though, even at the age of 5, was how many people on the street were frantically pointing at the flat tire as if we hadn't noticed something was wrong.
