When you hear the crunch, you're there

It was like any other trip back from school -- high school that is. MR was with me and we were traveling on the road, when I saw something in my rearview mirror ... enough to scar MR who said my eyes got very large and my legs stretched out -- as though I were jumping.

It was probably not a good idea to smash into a Pinto, but that wasn't going through the guy's mind who was behind us. D. Schwartz, also from that high school was driving like mad -- sad that he was a greater lead foot than was I, smashed into us going 55 mph. Ouch!

Ah ... what to say! I looked at the damage. Hey! You bent a corner of my licence plate. Meanwhile, his front end looked -- uh, bad. Left front headlight -- smashed ... bent bumper, broken plastic grill. Who knew I had the only Pinto not designed to explode?

I had at least four other people crash into the Pinto's rear bumper at different speeds. Its demise came from excessive damage from other things, including a guy who was going 44 in a 35, on slush, Dec. 27, 1990. I got side swiped -- time moving slowly as I hoped to twist to parallel with him on his mad dash into destiny. I had cinder blocks in the back to weigh it down.
After the hit ... blocks left the car via the hatch window. I was spun 500 some degrees. I turned the foul-smelling beast onto a side street. I was dazed, but unharmed. Pinto ... cough, hack ... sputter, gasp [engine now off]

I walked over to the car that was on the incline to a hill -- entrance to plaza. From the look of the car -- position first, I'm sure he was just plain stupid. He wanted to get my info, but was disinclined to share his. The cop found mutual fault -- the other driver was pissed.

Nothing says Merry Christmas like a destroyed car. It was patched, but never really repaired. It was dead. My next car was better, but its death is another story