Poor Rex

I love my car. And she has a name. And her name is Rex. I have no real emotional attachment to her or anything but shes my car and shes a damn good one! So here's the reason I said that...

While down here is Kentucky I parked in front of my sister and brother in laws house. I didn't want to block Alan in the driveway so since Sarah was driving she parked on the street. No problem. So about 30 minutes later the doorbell rings and a very young girl (or so she looked) said "Is that your car on the street?" "Yes... well it's my sisters car" said Sarah. "Well," Said the girl "I put a dent in it backing out of my friends driveway" So I ran to the door and said "Oh boy. Lets go look at it" So I walk to the car expecting a small dent on the drivers side door where she said it was and oh my glory!!! I wouldn't call it a dent!!! It was more like a smashed door! I was pissed to say the least. But Sharon (the young girl) gave me her information and I called the insurance company (we had the same company which made it easier) filed the claim and dealt with a very nice southern man by the name of Albert. But my window doesn't go down and I can't unlock the car door from the outside. Poor Rex. At least I can still drive her. We go to the adjuster on Wednesday down her in Lexington and we'll get her fixed when we get back to the NJ. Sigh... one can never really get a break from life. As my father always says "It's always something!"