I Crashed My Car Into The Bridge (Wall)

I don't care, I love it! Actually no, I am really struggling

Yes, after 7 years of driving my beautiful 2014 Volkswagen Jetta with no accidents, I got in one. It was bound to happen. I’m fine, just carrying around this embarrassing baggage in my rental Nissan Altima (such a basic bitch car, no offense.)

I was pulling into a parking spot in a garage and my foot slipped off the break and I slammed on the gas, accelerating into - you guessed it - a concrete wall. I am insanely lucky that no one else was in the car and there were no other cars/people involved and I recognize this! The biggest takeaway is to never drive in sweaty Birkenstocks. And also that your dad will say “fuck” under his breath maybe 50 times on the phone while you call still unsure what the fuck just happened. (I’m just like him for real)

When I hit the wall (lol) the airbag went off and the seatbelt choked me out like a motherfucker. I have a burn on my wrist from the smoke from that 10 year old airbag that had never been deployed, a bruise right on my upper boob and just general soreness in my arms and chest along with major brain fog. The worst injury by far though is my bruised ego that I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.

The past couple of years in LA I’ve become such a good driver, and, as our intern at work put it, an insanely good honker. I was never super comfortable behind the wheel throughout high school and college, coupled with the fact that I went to school in the city I really didn’t know how to fucking drive. But now, I’m a pro. I can even accelerate to the speed of traffic on the highway! This stupid mistake however has been a major blow.

I love my car. I remember going to get it when I was 17 with my dad. I drove it all by myself back home (about 20 mins- which is how long it takes to go 1 mile in LA) and I felt so grown up. I thought I had the coolest car in school, truly. I really didn’t, not even close. But I felt so chic. Candy white exterior, black interior, you fucking wish you could touch me, bitch!

My rental is the same color scheme but it’s not the same. One of the security guards who I see everyday asked me where my Volkswagen was. I miss the German engineering because, of course, Das Auto ‘til I die. I miss her, and I’m getting nostalgic. Two years ago I moved myself into my first apartment out of that car. It was bursting at the seams. Truly insane how much shit I had (still have) but it’s mine. That car was my first taste of adulthood and it’s been my rock?? I guess?? Is this insane???

The car has pretty minimal damage but I’m still seconds away from an anxiety attack when the thought even enters my head that I might need to get a new one. Maybe I shouldn’t be so connected to and concerned with material items. I don’t know. Trying not to be too precious about it but obviously precious enough to publish a woe is me post while people are dying. Whatever! Bye!