On Car-ma

So this morning’s a bit of a bummer, as I learned an old friend from high school has suddenly passed (well, I mean, we’re not that old, but whatever). I was never as close with her as some of the other people in our circle, and as these things go we drifted apart in college and after, but dammit she was a friend, so that counts for something.

Anyway, one of those first memories that came rushing up was the first time I ever hit something with my car: her car. Wasn’t anything huge - I backed into her side mirror on the way out of a party (which I believe was at the house of another friend who suddenly passed a few years ago), broke a chunk off the housing. I immediately called her on my bodaceous early-aughts flip phone to let her know, ran back inside to apologize profusely (and she was cool with it, as far as I knew), we laughed, and life went on. Until the next morning, when I was backing my Mountaineer out of the folks’ garage. Now I’d been driving for a year or so by this point, so this was pretty routine, but somehow I came too close to the edge of the door...and cracked my mirror housing on it. Whaddya know. Of course, I called her to tell her how funny that was. I did not think of the carma pun at that moment. Damn.

My memory is fuzzy on the car she drove at the time. I know for sure it was red, sporty, and Japanese. The picture that plays in my head is of a four-eyed Integra.


Post broken mirrors your fuzzy memories of old friends’ high school rides for me. Zikhronah livrakha - see you ‘round, kid.

(Also this is the first time I’ve not posted a picture of a trucky thing to Oppo. I have diverse taste, I promise!)

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