I was wrong.
I was having the worst week of my life.
Because this happened.
Don't worry. Me and Martin are completely fine. We dashed out of the car with nothing more than a couple of scratches and a nasty seat belt burn across my neck. But my beautiful 2005 Toyota Corolla, with no more than 41,000 miles on it, is basically dead, thanks to that fire hydrant.
I want to cry. But I am thankful that the fire hydrant wasn't a pedestrian, that me and Martin were totally okay and fine, and that no one else was hurt in this terrible car accident process. And many thanks to everyone for telling me how much worse it could have been. That the speeding red-light running car could have T-boned my car and broken both my legs in half. That my car could have gone up in flames. That I could have hit that light pole instead of the fire hydrant. That I could have this and I could have that, but thankfully, in the end, everyone is okay.
And a big sentimental thank you to my beautiful Corolla, for the many road trips to Wisconsin, Michigan, and those drives up and down PCH and Lakeshore Drive. Thank you for being the car I learned how to drive in, the getaway car we used during med school, the car that made the cross-continent trek from Illinois back to Southern California with me, the car that got me through intern year, and the car that saw me break down and cry many many times. Like Martin says, she's off to the Corolla farm, where she'll get to drive 80+mph to her heart's content and go off-roading as much as she wants to. She was a good car, and the best first car a girl could have possibly asked for.
I'm okay. And everyone else is okay. And that's most important.
