Smashy Smashy

Someone ran into our car AGAIN yesterday. This is the third time that our parked car has been violated by drunken barhoppers. How does that catchy little maxim go? Smash my car once, you’re a bastard. Smash my car three times and I’m a big sucker for parking in the same spot. Something like that… As much fun as our neighborhood is for eating out and getting places easily, I’m beginning to think I’m ready to move back to the sleepy little ‘burbs.

Driving in Boston is not a pleasure, and fortunately when you live where we do, you rarely have to do it. Granted, I’m always complaining about the two or three things you can’t do without a car, but it’s relatively rare to need one for the essentials. Yet, as much fun as it is to sit around feeling smug about not consuming gasoline, I really miss getting to drive places. And I miss my cute little Subaru! (But thank god she is at my mom’s house, safe from the dangers of parking here in my ‘hood!)

Why do we have a car at all? It’s hard to say. I have to do some reporting in faraway places. Also, you need a car to get to a decent quilting store. And, I need some herb plants, too, and there don’t seem to be any decent nurseries within walking distance. I hesitate to drive for non-professional or essential errands because the three or four times that I have braved that activity resulted in hysterical crying: twice in Cambridge and once in Framingham. I’m proud of my trip to Cape Cod, because I didn’t break into tears until I got stuck in a labyrinth of construction detours hours later in downtown Boston on the way home. This city is just impossible to navigate. Now, I know what some of you are thinking. True, I’m particularly bad at finding my way around, but this place really is notorious for crooked roads, unnamed avenues, aggressive drivers, unorganized neighborhood street layouts, and hideously congested traffic. I swear!

The damage: