Sometimes, in life, you just drive your car through the window of a knitting shop. It’s just one of life’s intricacies, something that forms the fabric of the weave of time that we create upon this earth, and yes, I am in quite a lot of trouble. For one thing, that was my Dad’s car, and he hasn’t really said anything to me about it yet. He just looked at the damage, then wordlessly gave me a handwritten list of every auto mechanic Ringwood has open for business.
That’ll be a fun conversation to have with a mechanic. “What happened to the car?” A knitting shop. A knitting shop happened to the car. While the new windscreen is getting fitted and the dents are being panel-beaten out, you might find a few strands of wool and cotton and I think there are still a few boxes of safety pins strewn across the back seat that I need to return.
Oh yeah…the shop itself. Fortunately they have insurance, but I still need to write a long letter of apology, even after I spent all day helping them clean up. I should probably explain that it was a new car, I was just taking it for a spin, and I’m really not used to the power. It’s a something-something litre engine, lots of litres, basically, hence why I so violently went plowing through the window, and hence why we are now in the situation in which we are.
I was trying to reverse, actually. Must not have set the lever thing to where it needs to be. Maybe one of these specialists in brake pad replacement Ringwood residents seem to be constantly in need of can explain the handbrake to me as well, because that was a contributing factor in all of this.
Also the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be driving this particular car, and the incident was the first my Dad heard about it. Lots of mistakes were made, is what I’m saying. But those brake pads…someone should look at those, because I don’t think they work all that well.