The Rental Car

The insurance agency was kind enough to rent me a car of the same make as the one that crumpled into a paper ball on hitting mine.

I climbed in, cried, drove a little- for pity's sake, none of the pedals worked like mine- pulled over, cried more. I shouted, "I hate this, but it doesn't matter. If it mattered, they wouldn't have hit me with a car." I drove home through a 30 mph zone, screaming in horror most of the way. Crap, my brain is broken.

When I got home, I said, "I hate you, but we're going to be friends." I learned all her buttons and dials, and then I saw the odometer on the dashboard, and she only had 30,000 miles on her. I don't think I'd ever seen a car with that little. My voice broke. "Oh. You're only a wee baby. You're just a little baby."

I sat there. "...it's okay. We'll be friends. We'll be friends."