So it’s 4:40 pm and I’m finishing up a voice lesson with Trevor Parker, hoping to squeeze in one more song from his upcoming recital before it’s time for my next lesson, with Anthony Gullo. There’s a strong knock on the door- which does not sound like Anthony- and I suddenly have a Carthage security guard in my office doorway, asking me if I drive a green Honda. When I nod, he says that he has some bad news for me.
Which he did.
When I got to Carthage this morning, I found – as usual – that all of the faculty parking spaces below and beside the Johnson Art Center were taken -so I settled for a place in the commuter lot right beside the baseball diamond. It’s a little bit of a hike, but part of the walk is over a picturesque little bridge over the Pike River, so that offers some compensation. To be fair, there is a sign in that commuter lot saying that you are parking there at your own risk after 3:00 because of athletic practice, and I have always wondered if the day would come when a baseball would come crashing through one of my car windows or onto my hood.
Little did I know that the threat would actually not come from the baseball diamond, but rather from the opposite direction- where the Carthage track guys practice their field events like the discus, shot put, and hammer throw. Thanks to some truly rotten luck, one of the hammer-throwing athletes heaved his hardware right into my car, as though my helpless little Honda had a nice little bull’s eye painted on it.
When I got to the car, I found my driver’s side window smashed to smithereens- and a big impact crater on the passenger end of the front windshield- which at a glance made absolutely no sense at all. Then the security guard explained it as the athlete had explained it to him – that first the big bowling ball-ish sphere hit the windshield, and its chain and handle snapped back and around, shattering the driver’s side window. When the security guard was done explaining it, I actually said something about how it sounded kinda cool and I almost wish I could have seen it happen. The security guard looked at me rather quizzically from that point on.
The police were called even though no crime had been committed, and once all of that got straightened out, it was time to clean up the mound of broken glass on my car seat plus clearing off the remaining shards of glass around the perimeter of what had been the window so I could drive my little tin can home. Fortunately, I had winter gloves sitting in the car within easy reach, and I was able to brush the glass out of my immediate path and onto the floor and/or on the ground. Oh, yeah- I also discovered at this point that the car door was knocked out of alignment and wouldn’t open all the way- so I had the challenge of slipping my ever so svelt frame through a half-opened car door. The last step was to lay a flattened cardboard box on the seat, so I wouldn’t add a shredded tush to the list of the day’s inconveniences. And with that, I drove home- with Kathy behind me- and I had a note from the police officer in case I was pulled over (since technically it is illegal to drive with this kind of damage to one’s car.)
In some ways, the worst part of the day was when I took out my cell phone, dialed up the office of Mark Veenstra- my wonderful WGTD-listening State Farm agent- and left a voice mail for him basically saying “Hi, Mark. It’s Greg Berg again.” They’ve seen me through two totaled cars plus the lovely day when I backed our van into Marshall’s car on the street. It’s a wonder that I’m allowed to drive anything other than a baby buggy. Or maybe a wheel barrow.
So the next few days will be interesting- as if Holy Week weren’t interesting enough as it is. Dark Cloud Department: When I got to my car to survey the damage, the four hammer throwers were still right there, throwing the hammer like before – talking, laughing – and none of them was inclined to come over and express any sort of regret or concern on my behalf or my car’s. I don’t know if throwing the hammer into parked cars was so physically taxing that they couldn’t walk 20 feet to say hello. I am a bit ticked off about that. . . and if I’m still ticked off tomorrow, I may send a little email to the track coach about the lack of class which I think these guys demonstrated.
Silver Lining Department: When anyone in a uniform shows up at your door – unless its a Dominos Pizza uniform – one immediately assumes the worst, so I was tremendously grateful that the bad news had nothing to do with Kathy or someone else in my family. I was glad that the student in my office at the time was Trevor, who was happy to call Kathy for me and fill her in. I was glad that it was a beautiful sunny day and not the monsoon-drenched day that is expected tomorrow. I’m almost grateful for the driver’s side window mishap because actually that window has been acting up for more than a year, and most the time I have to actually grip the window and pull – it won’t make it up on its own. And I’m glad that this little mishap didn’t keep me from any sort of urgent appointment; it made me a little late for an RTG rehearsal, but it could have been worse. I am grateful that I wasn’t sitting in my car when this little version of hell broke loose. And I’m glad that none of the opera videos in my car were damaged. (If they had been, those musclemen would have tasted my fury.)
So there you have it. . . and no, this was no day after April Fool’s Day joke. I wish it were.
Stay safe, everyone – – – and beware of track and field athletes operating anywhere close to your vehicle or those you love.
(You can see a couple more photos at 4/2/07)