The Big Little Crash of 2012

Have you ever noticed when you see a fender bender that usually one of the cars is brand new? When there's that new-car smell inside, there's danger lurking outside your door.

December 13th, Jer got a new Dodge Journey.  (The salesman, Julio Olivera, is Cuban and told a lot of highly entertaining stories which made the purchase way more fun than normal for me.  If you are a local and in the market for a new vehicle, you owe it to yourself to go see him at Stateline Dodge.  And remember to tell him "hi" from me, please.)  The car has a smooth, quiet ride which makes it a favorite from the get-go, in my book.  It was born in Mexico,
but since it's a Chrysler, we can call it American made, right?

Typical Charleston house

For the first few work days of the new year, Jer had business in Charleston.   What's not to love about Charleston?  It's on the ocean, every nook and cranny is packed with history, there is a huge shopping district, flowers are blossoming in January and we've never had a bad meal here.  So, of course, I have gone with him.  I'm not one to turn down a good time.

The Evil Column

Charleston only has one problem in my view.  There are too many cars and not enough parking spaces.  To remedy this, we always stay at the lovely Ashley Inn which has its own (miniature) parking lot, not to mention a friendly, friendly staff. (This means YOU Susan and Jan!)  We think of it as our "home away from home" and feel quite comfortable there.
  
When Jerry pulled in yesterday to drop me off, a panel van pulled in behind him.  As he was backing out, he saw the van in the right side of his rear-view mirror and a large palmetto tree on the left.  What he didn't see as he was maneuvering his way out of the tight space, was the brick column next to the tree. That was in his blind-spot.

Although he didn't see the column, he certainly heard the crunching sound that the bumper made when it came in contact with it.  What a way to start the new year!

The Damage

Jerry heard me mention his accident to Kate and he said that cracking a fender in a parking lot can't be considered an accident.  My  mom would agree with him.  She always told me, "That's what bumpers are for, Christine." Then she would add, "Don't bother to tell your Dad, dear."