The Honeymoon's Over

Mein Mann and I go to the garage to hop in the car and drive to the airport, yet again. We have had a great few days together, just living life in Munich.  To my great surprise, our brand new (thank you company!) leased car had arrived and been sneakily placed in our parking spot!  The old car rental is right next to it, in the under-sized "double garage"**.  To get into the driver's seat, I had to snake across from the passenger side.

The effort was worth it.  The leather seats feel smooth and good. It's roomy, but no bigger, and even less long than our car rental.  After we got in, I carefully backed out of the spot in the shiny white Q5, having to perform a 6-point turn in order to avoid the concrete wall on the left and the car rental to my right.  Several automatic safety features were put into the car, which were all going off at the same time, alerting me that I was very near to the car next to me and the concrete wall.  Safety features? Check.  All is working well.  I take the boy to the airport have a pleasant airport lunch date before we say goodbye for a few days.  We take pictures like proud new parents.  I drive home happily, impressed with the huge moon-roof, the wide windows, mirrors, and sheer lack of blind spots due to the car's excellent design.  Neither of us have ever had such a nice car, or a brand new car.  It is nice; I'm a little bit in shock and awe.  I am careful driving home, even though I don't have to be.  The lane guidance assist system alerts me if I get too close to the lane next me on either side.

I pull into our garage.  I perform a 2 point turn and start to very slowly pull back into our teensy weensie parking space.  My head is out of the driver's side window.  I am creeping into place.  I hope to not have to make another adjustment to my turn, as it would be cutting things close to the car on my right.  I hear no beeps, no whistles, no alerts of danger.  I have been told many times to "trust the infallible technology", granted this was in regard to the navigation system.  It looks too close for comfort, but, hearing no infallible technology, I press on, slowly.  I hear a scrape.  No bells. No beeps.  A stinkin' scrape. You've got to be kidding me.  I back up, readjust, and head into the spot.  I get out and look.  Not one, but somehow, two (!) deep, black, gut-wrenching scratches across the front bumper are now haunting our shiny white car.  My heart sinks into my stomach.  I blink back tears.  I can't believe it.  I should have trusted my instinct.  How many times must I learn this lesson! Wahhhhhh!  Uggggh! Disgust! Wahhhh! Someone put me under now; I can't even park a car without damaging it.  oh. my.   whine whine whine. ughhhh!

I get out the phone and call my husband, still in shock that I did this.  These kind of things don't usually happen to me.  I've always had a decent sense of depth perception.  Sigh.  He answers the phone.  I tell him, but find from him only grace.  Don't worry.  It's alright.

I really like like him, for so many reasons.

**Double garage, in Germany, means single garage in the USA 


 Before the big bang: