A few weeks ago, my husband bought me a beautiful new van:
It's the nicest car I've ever owned and after driving a 1999 Honda Accord until the day it died (the day before we got this car), it feels sooooo luxurious!
A couple of weeks ago, when my car was less than a week old, I was pulling out the way too narrow garage and I hit the side mirror on the post separating the two garage doors. I saw the huge "scratch" and I freaked-out and was so mad at myself until I took it to the dealer where they told me that "No, it's not a scratch, it's paint that can be removed with Turtle Wax." After visiting my friend and working the Turlte-Wax-Magic, my car was as good as new. I have a new obsession with Turtle Wax now, by the way.
After that incident, I told my husband that we "needed" one big garage door instead of two doors separated by a 12 inch WORTHLESS divider. Well, as it turns out, that divider isn't worthless, it's actual supporting the garage (darn it!) and will be quite a costly venture to remove, re support the garage and add new doors. Trying to cope with the seemingly impossible idea of a new garage door, I've been parking in the garage to get used to the cars dimensions and TRYING to get more comfortable with parking there.
Fast forward two days, to today. After a wonderful morning at Jellybean Jungle where I took the boys and met-up with two of my girlfriends and their kids (Charlie screamed and ran away every time I took his pic),
RJ decided he wanted to practice riding his bike. I had found this amazing little boy's bike in the trash on Wednesday, purchased some training wheels and a helmet and after some tweaking by my Father-in-law, the bike was good to go. So, RJ and I go into the garage and I open up the trunk. I know that I'm pulled forward enough to do this because my windshield is gently resting against the ball strung from the ceiling that Rob so kindly rigged for me. The trunk opens-up with ease (admittedly, I cringed for a second when I wasn't quite sure it was going to make it). RJ then asks if he can open up the garage. I say "sure" without fully assessing the situation and before I know it, this long metal pole that is attached to the door is scraping across my trunk.
The entire trunk is scraped, including the license plate, license plate holder, bottom of the window and the windshield wiper. 8:00 Monday morning, my car has a visit to the plastic surgeon. I hate my garage doors with passion.
