The scene of the crime…and one of those damn purple bins in the background.


Mirror, mirror on the car—who’s the worst driver by far?

You are, the mirror wants to say. But it can’t, because it’s gone.


For the third time, I’ve managed to rip it off.

The first two incidents were identical. It’s a tight squeeze out of my garage, and twice I’ve hit the side of the garage door and ripped the mirror completely off.

It’s an expensive lesson I’ve learned.

But this week I found a new way to play the game. I’d like to assign some blame to the plastic trash bins our borough has recently insisted we use.  These things are eggplant purple and big as a house.  Every week we fill them with our trash and drag them to the curb.

So I was driving to work, minding my own business when suddenly I heard a thud. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw my passenger-side mirror flying through the air and one of those purple bins rocking like a jukebox.

In my defense, I would like to point out that the road is winding and runs along a hill, so there is very little room between the bin and the road.

In the bin’s defense, I have a lifelong habit of driving too close to the white line. Also in the bin’s defense—it is eggplant purple and big as a house.

Fortunately, I knew just what to do. I drove on over to my local auto body repair shop and asked for Dave.  We’re on a first name basis at this point, and it took him less than five minutes to draw up an estimate and fit me in for Monday.  I get repeat customer priority scheduling.  Unfortunately I don’t get a volume discount.

The bad news is I’ll be without wheels for three days next week. But the good news is I’m also getting my bumper repaired from that time I backed into a huge decorative rock.  And getting the strip of detailing glued back on after I snagged it on a chain link fence and ripped it half off.

Come Wednesday my car is going to look brand new. I only hope I’ll recognize it in crowded parking lots!