Hey, Anna-Liza here.
I’m going against all rules of writing here and completely ruining the suspense. Darlin’ K and all other people involved in this story are absolutely okay, with the exception of me being pretty sleep-deprived due to my unruly brain refusing to let me sleep without rehearsing all the really bad ways this could have played out, in spite of the fact that it’s really mostly okay, except for The Brave Little Honda.
Let me ‘splain.
Darlin’ K was on his way to a gig down near Woodland Park during Friday rush hour. (And again, everyone’s fine).
When traffic rather quickly slowed and stopped, Darlin’ K slowed and stopped, too. Not so the pickup right behind Darlin’ K. Hence the Brave Little Honda’s entire front end shoved under the other pickup, the one in front of him.
Sorry about the quality – the camera in Darlin’ K’s phone is, to use the word I’ve used before, execrable. I have the exact same phone, and the camera in mine is possibly worse. But there you have it.
You can’t tell from the photos, but the rear tire of the pickup is not touching the ground. The back end of the Honda is smooshed more than you can tell from the photos, and the whole thing got bent slightly “C” fashion, so the passenger door no longer functions and, in fact, overlaps the doorframe by a few inches. Whoever designed this car knew what they were doing, though, because the passenger compartment stayed intact.
And my darling Darlin’ K was not seriously hurt. We’ll have to see what the chiropracter has to say about his spine, but he wasn’t killed instantly nor did he sustain life-threatening injuries, broken bones, nor head injury. And I have been saying prayers of gratitude for that every day, several times a day, since his phone call.
That said, I am mourning The Brave Little Honda, which was one of the best cars I’ve ever had (and that’s saying something – I’ve been blessed with some really great cars). It was old, it had over 220,000 miles on it, and it still ran like a charm. It still got around 35 mpg. It was even more fun to drive than my first car love, my long-lost 1967 Cougar XR7 GT.
I loved that car and I am seriously pissed that it died before its time. Darlin’ K and I were happily looking forward to celebrating the odometer’s acheivement of 300,000 miles at some point in the future.
But when all’s said and done, The Brave Little Honda died an honorable, if tragic, death, and can be replaced. Completely irreplaceable Darlin’ K is safe (I keep repeating that for my own sake as much as anyone’s), and I will be sleeping just fine once he’s home. (Hard core is my Darlin’ K. He got up at 5 the next morning so he could still make his gig. He’ll be back tonight).
So really? Gratitude.