Open Up, It's the Police

Midnight or so last night we were home, having some drinks with Bruce's sister, when the doorbell rang.  Bruce's parents were in bed, asleep.

I could see the flashing lights through the window as I entered the front hallway.

Beer in hand, I peered out the curtains to see a police officer standing on the porch.

This could not be good.

When I opened the door and greeted the officer, I could see past him onto the street, where one of our cars is parked.

It was smashed.  All over the pavement, pieces of it sparkled in the headlights of the police car.

The officer told us he was patrolling the neighborhood when he noticed the damage.  Our car had been hit from behind, and apparently the offender took off.  He or she was probably drunk and/or texting.

That's the car we haven't been driving, because the mechanics told us it was unsafe.  The one we got from Bruce's aunt.  The one we were planning on trading in when we bought a new car.

The car only has liability insurance.  Because it was hit-and-run, no one else's insurance will pay us.  We will not be receiving any money for damages.

As little as that car was worth, it was at least cosmetically intact.  Now, it's broken on the inside and out.  It's not very likely that it will help us out towards a new car purchase anymore.

I tell you, some days I have to focus so hard on the positive, because life certainly can hand you some crappy surprises.