Humor is just another defense against the Universe.

Dave left yesterday for a bucket-list trip to hang out with his best friend Bud, meeting up on their motorcycles in Idaho to travel through Glacier, Yellowstone and Teton National Parks for the next 9 days. Nice. I plan to use this time apart as a retreat of sorts, do some creative cooking: (none), sleep past 4:45 a.m., etc., etc.

So, this morning I've driving my new little car which is being pulled by the gravity of unexplored garage sales when I see a car speeding up next to me in my rear view mirror. In a nano-second, the kind that you play over and over again in your head for days after an accident, I realize the driver doesn't see that I'm there and long story short, I moved over as far against the curb as possible but she still hooked my front bumper and ripped a big hole in it. Sheesh, the car isn't quite a month old, the first really new one we've had for about 20 years. You know the rest of the story: the police, insurance exchanges, mumbled halfhearted contrition and me shakily driving home.
The reason I bring this up is because of this:

. . .when we both pulled over to the side of the road to wait for the police, another car parked between us. We both looked over at a nicely coiffed older lady waiting patiently behind her wheel. A few minutes later she's still there so we decide she must have been a witness, no? We asked her if she saw the collision and she replied, "No. You mean I can go? I thought we were all stopped for a funeral that was coming by or something."

I quit!
But not before I get a new white bumper.

[thanks to Mary Englebreit's illustration and Mel Brooks' quote above]