shit happens, and it can happen again

Barely a week after the whole family trooped to Sta. Cruz (and when I say "trooped," I mean an MRT commute from Ortigas to Taft, and then an LRT commute from Edsa to Blumentritt, and then a pedicab ride along Sta. Cruz's Islander-friendly streets...I figured my daughter could use some urban adventure) to pick up the family car from the shop (some very, very minor repairs were needed after a female-driven CR-V backed up on my daughter's father's spanking new X-trail, which was driven at that time by no less than yours truly), it got into another accident, and it was an uglier one this time.

I'm not posting any photos here...suffice to say seeing the "oto" in such a condition broke my heart. Friday night, my daughter's father was in Malate with his colleagues while I took the lesser yuppie's choice of public transport, the FX, to get home. I woke up to a frantic call from him at 2am...a cab hit him in the rear which pushed the X-trail to a street stall. I was thankful no one was hurt...but I made a mental note to wring his neck as soon as he arrived.

So there. The brand new bumper was smashed, but at least the headlights, although just as smashed, were working. The hood, though, was pushed in, and the fenders are a bit out of line from the doors.

And no, I haven't wrung his neck yet. I'm getting close, though.