My Fourth of July adventure

The first thing I thought when I stopped was, profoundly, “Huh.”

Of course, while hydroplaning across Interstate 70 with no sign of stopping, my first thought was “Oh shit.”

Somehow, after a full 360-degree turn, I stopped heading the same direction I’d started in but in the median. The heavy wire barriers in the middle of the median kept me from crossing into oncoming traffic, but did a number on the passenger side of the car:

• The front bumper is broke and cracked,
• The headlight was ripped out of place (but the light still works)
• The front quarter panel has deep dents and scratches
• The front tire hits the out of place front bumper on left turns
• The front quarter panel is pushed back a bit
• The wheel on the front tire has a deep gouge from the wire
• The fender over the front tire was ripped off
• The front passenger side door only opens a few inches and has a deep gouge and several scratches
• The edge of the running board was ripped off
• The back passenger door has deep scratches
• The fender over the back tire is loose and scratched
• The rear quarter panel has deep gouges from the wire
• The back bumper is no longer level and and the right edge is crumpled which means keeps the back door from opening
• And the back taillight is broke and doesn’t work.

It could’ve been much worse.

The driver’s side is fine. No broken glass. The air bag didn’t deploy. I drove out of the median (after a helpful highway patrolman showed up to make is safe to get back on the highway). My laptop, which was sitting in the front passenger seat, is fine. I did toss my cookies — the lemon sandwich cookies that were sitting in the back. Don’t worry, they’re fine. (They’re also my summer addiction. There’s something about lemon and summer.) And I don’t have any bumps, bruises or scratches. (Just a headache.)

(This happened at about 3:05 p.m. I called the Highway Patrol at 3:12, tweeted it at 3:17, got out of the median and talked to the highway patrolman at 3:43 and got back on the road at 7.

Of course, the car is now sitting at a body shop 165 miles away. (I had to rush back to St. Louis to make sure Bearcat had food.) So the insurance adventure has yet to begin.