I was on my way to the National Wildlife Preserve near here this morning when I got rear-ended.
I’m OK, no one was injured. It was just a tap, and Gypsy only has a couple of minor dents where Journey‘s rack rests on the back of the trunk lid. But Journey took the brunt of the blow. Her front sprocket cover is busted, the front derailleur looks out of whack, and her front wheel is bent to hell.
Kim, the lady who hit me, was a sweet lady who was very apologetic and accepted responsibility without issue. Her insurance should cover all the repairs. In the meantime, however, Journey will remain racked. Kim cracked me up though, when she looked at Gypsy’s license plate and about had a heart attack. She exclaimed, quite loudly, “Oh my god, I hit a North Carolinian!” like… well, like she was heart-broken that of all the people in the world to hit, a North Carolinian was the worst or the saddest or something.
After all the information was exchanged and all of that, we were saying our goodbyes, and it was then that she started to cry. I felt so bad for her! I gave her a big hug, and that seemed to help.
If this little love tap is the worst thing that happens to me on this journey, I think I’ll be just fine.
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