I hit a semi this afternoon on my way to Matt’s party. no, it wasn’t that bad, considering: I drifted right in the lane while I was trying to figure out whether it would be better to take 405 (because of all the crazy seafair shit) and the front ride side of the daewoo slid across the left rear tire of the semi. lost the passenger mirror, scraped that corner of the car. and this was in southcenter…so I drove all the way to Matt’s completely terrified, crying pretty much the whole way, listening to jill sobule’s pink pearl album – which in the circumstances seemed almost appropriate. that perfect combination of jaunty tunes and melancholy lyrics…just the thing to bawl to.
on the way home, I fought back panic attacks every time somebody passed me – which since I refuse to go 90 mph, was pretty often. my arms and shoulders ache. chad hasn’t gotten home yet, either. I’m freaked out about that conversation.
this whole thing freaks me out. I’ve had my license for less than a month – this car less than 2 months – and already I’ve done something to fuck it up. I don’t know how much this will cost, how it will affect the cost of our insurance, how soon we can get it done. then Matt said, right before I left his place, that I might have a problem with the insurance because I didn’t file a police report. hell, I don’t think the semi even saw me (I don’t think I would’ve seen me), and I wasn’t exactly going to try & pull over on I5 at 405. (i considered it momentarily, but i don’t know if i would’ve been able to get in the car again.)
so I’m going to get drunk (we had a couple of hard lemonades in the fridge) and maybe cry some more, and then I don’t know what. I might call Kat, before I get too messed up, but it’s probably too late for that.