Hit and Run... kinda?

I hit a milestone in my life last April: I bought my first car.

The car I had been driving, Booger as I so named him, died in a tragic thrown rod incident in January of 2008. I then had to borrow Little Shit’s Ford F350, Blackie, until a replacement could be found. Let me remind you I live in the tundra of the Midwest and (if you were not aware) pick-up trucks suck in the snow. I am also terribly short and this truck is ginormous. This was the worst three months of my driving life.

So over spring break I bought myself a 2008 Ford Focus SE in a beautiful shade of Kiwi Green. I named him Jamison and he is the love of my life next to my dog and Resee’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Alas -- most depressingly -- last Saturday Jamison was terribly violated in $900 worth of damage. And let me tell you, the story of this damage is one of the most ridiculous experiences of my life.

The roommate and I met up with some friends to celebrate Singles Awareness Day at the local bar. A fabulous time was had by all. A good friend of mine was our designated driver and Jamison was the designated car. We decided to stay at said designated driver’s place simply because they lived close to the bar (and it’s not fair making the sober one sleep in a random house).

I woke up the next morning to find a note on my car that said,

“I saw your car get hit by an SUV last night. Call me for
info.

-Dumb Bitch*
123-456-7891**”

(Note: this was mistake #1 for the culprit.)

I look at the driver's side
of Jamison, nothing. I then proceed to walk around to the passenger side and see
this:

Holy shit! That’s not at all a “Oops-I-bumped-into-your-car-when-I-was-backing-up” kind of dent. That’s a “vroom-bam-eak!” kind of dent.

I called the phone number provided only to find out Dumb Bitch gave me the wrong number. (Now I would like to make it very clear that there was no way I could have mistaken any of the digits in the number provided for another number.) However, according to my friends whom I stayed with, there were two girls by the name of ‘Dumb Bitch' who lived next door. I compared the number given to me on the note to the phone numbers my friends had in their phones.

Ta-da! Dumb bitch changed one digit in her phone number to avoid me contacting her. (Mistake #2) After discovering this, I proceeded to look at every car in the apartment complex that had a license plate matching the state her number was from. It was then that I found (you guessed it) a fender adorning a lovely shade of kiwi green.

Needless to say, my car is not exactly a common shade of green. The chances of this car picking up some kiwi green residue in everyday driving is slim to none. After asking the friend, I also discovered that this was, in fact, Dumb Bitch’s vehicle. (Mistake #3)

So… after all this exhausting CSI work and being needlessly nice to Dumb Bitch on the phone, I was informed that she “has a lot of money and will pay for it.” (That is a direct quote.) I am now currently cheating on Jamison with a VW Beetle with heated seats while he recoups at my dealer's body shop.

At least a rich, dumb bitch hit me.



* Names have been changed to protect the idiocy of those involved.

** See above.