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Ahh… October.

A month so full of promise, yet that promise was murdered brutally in the parking lot of work on Tuesday. You see, on Tuesday I was initiated into one of the most difficult clubs to enter: The Hit-and-Run club.

While I was packing up my things and getting ready to go home, some lady was making a great name for women drivers everywhere. For starters, she hit my driver’s side door, ripping the clear coat and putting some lovely red paint and dents around the middle area. She then backed up (why, I have no clue) and scraped quite a bit of paint right off of my bumper. Realizing what she did, she hauled ass out of the parking lot and stopped in front of the beauty shop where she (this is my favorite part) got out of her car to inspect the damage to her front end. Once she saw, she climbed into her car and floored it.

She didn’t leave a note, she didn’t wait for me, she didn’t go back at all. She completely screwed up my brand new car (three months old) and then left before anyone could catch her. I had to call the non-emergency police and file a report. Then I had to meet with insurance officers and mechanics. In short, because the witnesses were only able to get a partial tag and the guilty party fled, there is nothing that can be done about it. My insurance company treats accidents like this like they are my fault even though I wasn’t even near my car. I can expect to self-pay the cost of fixing all the damage or I can file a claim and have my rates increase.

This is going to be my attitude until my car is fixed:

Disaster follows in her wake... you can sense she has no conscience or sense of morality. She is of... them.