Demolition Derby.

I bought my first real car when I was 18. It was a lemon yellow Volkswagen Rabbit.

One night while I was asleep I heard a huge crash in front of the house. “Oh, no” I thought, “Someone hit our garbage cans!” I looked out the window to see a car speed  away. “No! Someone hit my car!” There was the Rabbit, facing the wrong direction on Pueblo Street with its rear end bashed in. The side of my brother’s pickup truck was also munched.

My family got up to take a look. A clue: There were red paint chips scattered among the wreckage. Mark and I got in the car with Frank to prowl the neighborhood in search of a red car with a smashed front end. Nothing. We went home and back to bed.

The next morning we went out to take another look. There was a note on the windshield that said “Sorry. I swerved to avoid a dog and hit your cars.” His name and number were scrawled at the bottom of the note.

He was a kid who lived just around the corner. His car was blue car with a red front end. Although nothing was said specifically, it seemed like a night of underage drinking had a lot to do with it. Frank took care of the matter with a phone call to the kid’s mom and the insurance company and all was settled. I’m sure the kid got a stern talking to or a swift kick in the ass.

•••

Later that summer Mom, Frank and I were sitting on the front porch with Scamp, our little terrier. We were in the middle of watching a torrential rainstorm, when we heard a loud crash in the intersection. The same kid who had slammed into our cars had just smashed another.

He got out of the car and said something to the other driver then went door to door to use someone’s phone. No one answered at any of the homes so he was forced to come to our house and use ours. As he stood awkwardly on our front porch waiting for the police to arrive. He tried to make conversation. “That’s a cute dog. What kind is it?” Frank dryly replied, “It’s a Swerve-to-Avoid-a-Dog.”