So maybe “crash” isn’t the best word for it. But in Top Gear parlance, I did. The car went where I didn’t want it to go, but I gave it that control input. So I consider that a crash.
It has been raining profusely this morning as well as all day yesterday. So visibility isn’t the best. I was leaving my allergy clinic’s parking lot, turning right onto a narrow entry road to get to the main road. Just as I leave the lot, there’s a car parked on the opposite side of the entry road. And at the same time, there’s a truck entering the entry road, moving around the car that’s parked. So he’s in my lane.
Well, there was room. But my brain didn’t register this. I hadn’t passed the apex of the 90 degree exit yet, and I went into “avoid the truck” mode, and so I turned harder to the right.
And that’s when my right wheels hopped the curb.
I stopped, put on the flashers and inspected the damage. The right rear tire had a bit of the rubber peeled off the side, but it wasn’t structural, so I think it’s fine. Front tire was fine. Wheels have large gashes down to the bare metal of the alloys.
This isn’t the first time I have had a run in with curbs, and barring my pothole excursion last winter, this is the worst I’ve ever screwed the wheels on the FiST.
So yeah. I feel pretty bad. Probably won’t replace them until it comes time to sell the thing. Whenever that is. All I know is, I don’t deserve alloy wheels. Next car is going to be a cheap wagon, and a fun toy.