Stories

(Not) Driving a Mini

One of those days…

Last Friday was supposed to be a fun day. I was spoiled with a pedicure – a Mother’s Day gift, thanks, children! – and then drove off with Daughter to Ikea, looking for some vases for my outdoor family party. I actually bought salmon pink carafes, which can be used as a vase too… Filled with some wild flowers, it should give an instant summer feeling. But more on flowers next week.

Daughter and I enjoyed a quick lunch at Ikea. I chose some on-the-spot grilled scampi (almost looked like a fancy restaurant) with rice, veggies and a coconut curry. Then we went to pick up Youngest, who was coming home to study for the weekend.

I parked hubbie’s car next to the entrance of the dorm. When all the luggage was packed in the back of the car, I asked Youngest how his last exam went. He answered while I started the car, but his response was drowned out by a strange, scraping noise, and I felt something blocking me from moving forward. I stopped the car. “The bench!”, Youngest screamed. There is a wooden picnic bench placed next to the wall (not the ideal spot if you ask me). I had hit the bench, and now it was wedged between the car and the wall. We first tried to lift the bench. It wouldn’t move, and if we forced it, we’d make more scratches on the car (hubbie’s new car!). I stepped back in the car and tried to maneuver forward or backwards, but it was obvious that moving either way would bring more damage. I saw a woman across the street and asked her for screw drivers. Not a solution either–the screws of the bench were totally rusted.

We stood there staring at this calamity, when we noticed another neighbor leave his house. I crossed the street again and asked him if he had any problem solving skills. He looked at me strangely. I explained: “the bench is stuck between the wall and my car.” He looked even more confused but his curiosity was triggered enough to follow me and have a look. He looked at the bench, at the car, at the wall and then at me, a little worried now. I said “Well this is my husbands car, it is high, and I was a little distracted. I usually drive a Mini.” He laughed, not bothering to hide the mockery in his eyes, but I didn’t mind if he was going to help. He went back home, got a chain saw and cut a piece out of the bench. The bench was free, the car had only a few scratches, and we could drive home.

On the way home I called Mrs M., the owner of the building. I had to explain three times before she really understood. She’d have a look at the bench and let me know the costs.

I was relieved to be home but dreading the moment of confession to hubbie. By the time he was home, I had texted my friends and received tons of well meant advice. Partners in crime!

He took it with ease – I had tried my best of bringing the story with humor – while eating his dinner. Then he went outside to check the car.

“Well, there is quite a visible scratch!”
“Yes, there is,” I immediately admitted, looking desperately guilty. “But better a scratch on the car than on our marriage!”

Silence.

Till next week, and drive safely 😉

 

 

 

 

 

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2 Comments

  • Reply frieda 23 June 2017 at 20:21

    Wat een – herkenbaar. – verhaal Sophie. In heb zitten gieren.

    • Reply Sophia 23 June 2017 at 23:35

      Leuk om te horen dat je ervan genoten hebt, Frieda! groetjes, Sophie

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