Short Story - 2007

Honorable Mention - September/October Short Story Contest

Mary MinjeurWintertime Woes

I hate winter. It's definitely the snow and my past "chilling" experiences with it that make me shudder at first glimpse. What once brought pure delight and poetry to my lips now brings words I am not permitted to repeat here.

It all began a few years ago when I took a job in the city where I live. Naturally, going back to work after being home with the kids for a few years made my driving a little rusty. But I never thought for an instant I couldn't handle it. Little did I know. Take the "minor" fender bender I had one snowy morning as I attempted to pull our mid-size Plymouth out of a parking lane at our local bank. A lovely Polish woman who couldn't speak English was driving a Volkswagen and proceeded to back into my car in spite of my frantic waving and horn blowing. I turned completely white as I watched in helpless horror the bad dream unfolding before me. It wouldn't have been so bad except I had just gotten the car out of the collision shop the previous week at a cost of $950.

Before you think I am that proverbial "woman" driver, let me explain that incident too. As I was backing the car out of the garage, I unknowingly ran over the lawn fertilizer spreader. Now this is not an easy thing to do, but it had fallen from its perch on the wall and unbeknownst to me landed just beneath the front wheel well of my car. Backing out just triggered a chain reaction with other garage inhabitants. The
mauled and twisted spreader wedged itself into the demolished garbage can carrier squishing the power lawnmower which I ultimately ran over. Why I continued to keep running over everything is still beyond me. I guess I unconsciously hoped I was dreaming, or I would eventually run out of things to run over, or I didn't want the neighbors to think anything abnormal was happening and just kept going.

When I finally emerged from the garage and viewed the trail of destruction, I was totally amazed at myself-not to mention panic-stricken at the thought of telling my husband. What was I to tell him? Who'd believe such a story? Of course, the best defense is a good offense, right? So I blamed it on him. It was my contention since he drives the smaller of our two cars and has no obstacles on his side of the garage like the bicycles, garbage cans, lawnmower, brooms, lawn spreader, gas cans, rakes, clippers, grass catcher, toys, and miscellaneous boots, that it was obviously his fault. What I faintly hoped to accomplish (to somehow diminish his wrath) had become a reality. He was apologetic and even sympathetic, and never knew I knew about "reverse psychology." Of course, the cost of these repairs and replacement of above-mentioned items totaled $1,500 (….and climbing.)

Anyway, there was still more winter to come. The car of course was repaired a second time. However, I had become obsessed with having my employer or neighbors pick me up and take me to work when the weather forecast mentioned even the slightest possibility of snow just so I could avoid driving or parking. And the days I did drive, most of my fellow employees left early to avoid any possible confrontation or mishap in the parking lot. I also began to park my car so far away from the walls in our garage that suddenly our two-car garage only had room for my car. But, as justice would have it, the "week" passed and my confidence returned.

Alas, it was the end of February-only a few more weeks to worry. Then it happened-the biggest snowfall of the year. Foolishly I attempted to drive to work the following morning. I tried to get on the main street where traffic was moving at a snail's pace. All the while the very sight of this deluge made me tremble and shake as I awaited the inevitable.
Panic set in as I saw in my rearview mirror the angry faces of those behind me waiting for me to make that necessary left turn. All I had to do was get over that mound of snow left by the plow. I rocked the car back and forth to gain momentum, and finally the car rolled over the mound and slid out of control into the side of an oncoming car. There it was-the sound of thudding steel against steel muffled by the densely falling snow. Crunch! Same fender. I was doomed. This time the male driver furiously came out of his car stating that his car was worth so much more than mine and the time he would have to take off work to have it fixed. He had a Lincoln Continental.

I looked at my Plymouth and thought, "Hmm. If he only knew how much more my car was going to cost-not to mention the attorney's fees for the divorce my husband was certainly going to want, he wouldn't have said that! Maybe I should have quit working since it seems to be costing me more than I am making." Another estimate-another repair. Cost: $2,000.

Well, it's been four years since that fateful winter. Remarkably, I'm still married, and to insure the safety of the public domain, I've stopped working, since I didn't seem to be making much money anyway. My insurance rates didn't go up too much and that fender never did rust like the rest of the car. I guess the moral to this story is to quote British novelist, David Storey: "Have confidence that if you have done a little thing well, you can do a bigger thing well too!" Frankly, I wouldn't recommend it!