The tow yard

I visited my poor car in the lot today. I felt like I was visiting a sick patient or something. And I have to say I felt much better about my wreck after seeing the completely thrashed cars that were there. Most of them had something fly through the front window, a crumpled hood and at least one flat tire.

The lot manager and the tow trucker driver gave me pause though. Sure I watch way too many movies but these guys were walking stereotypes. The lot manager was a morbidly obese man who found it difficult to pull his ass away from his chair, so he used an intercom to talk to a guy who was just outside his window. A shiny balding head with a few strands still desperately clinging to his spotted scalp, topped the most spherical body I have ever seen. He also never stopped eating, and I had a feeling that if the food supply ever ran too low the cat asleep on his phone would make a quick substitute. He buzzed me into the tow yard, as I stepped in a wire fence wheeled shut behind me. The tow truck driver from Tuesday met me and I must have been a little dazed then because I didn't realize just how creepy he was. Under what was probably one a blue company ball hat, dark greasy hair hung to his chin. And he never seemed to stand up all the way. He was incredibly helpful but still I just wanted to get out.

I grabbed the few things left in my car and headed back out. I didn't look back, I felt like a traitor abandoning a good friend.

But then I remembered it was just a car and got over it.