Well, word will be getting out soon enough so it's time you hear the whole story. On the morning of Friday the 13th (yeah...it's spooky already)...I asked Dad to drive Taryn to the bus stop at the Parco at the bottom of the hill. He had done this several times on his last visit and seemed to enjoy it. Sooooo...he and Taryn wait for her bus to arrive while parked in our usual spot outside the gate of the Parco. The bus shows up at about 7:10 am and pulls into the Parco, Taryn gets on the bus and Dad proceeds to head home while the other kids are loading on. He looks left, he looks right, he looks left, he looks right again (he's been driving around with me and knows that this requires mad defensive driving skills) so after bobbling his head to and fro for a few seconds he turns the Element to the left, begins to enter his lane and BAM! He's been hit head on by a couple of dumb ass Italian mama's boys going about 50-60 mph in a 20 mph area AND they are not wearing their seat belts. The kids and driver on the bus are all facing the opposite direction so they didn't see the collision. Taryn screams that that is her Grandpa and jumps of the bus with her red cape flowing behind her, blond heroine hair billowing in her blaze as she rushes to pull a rather stunned but uninjured Grandpa out of the Element which had been hit so hard that both air bags had deployed. The two Italian boys stagger out of their crappy little red Fiat Punto which is obviously totaled and the passenger is bleeding profusely from his head...we're talking blood everywhere (I missed actually seeing him in his bloodied and battered state but the trails of blood were still on the ground when I arrived on the scene a couple of minutes later). The bus was going to wait for Taryn to get back on but the children all started screaming and getting upset about the blood so they drove off and went along their merry way.
Some passing Italian's take the two boys to the hospital and it's at least 40 minutes before anybody looking slightly official show up on the scene. Of course there was no shortage of lookie looers. One of which requires at least an oderable mention. Picture this...a big ole fat Italian in a polyester athletic outfit that the elastic has worn out of his pants. He is a grumpy old bugger...and not too sweet on Americana's. He's walking around my poor little crushed Element's front end with a nasty stub of a cigar in his mouth, car fluids flowing freely under his paunch. We are witnessing this from the comfort of Earl's Mercedes that I have driven to the scene. His hind end fills our rear view mirror, Taryn gets the dry heaves, Dad mumbles "Good Lord" and shakes his head...and I'm like "gross" you big WOP (which in this case means "without pants"...literally his pants are hanging virtually past the exit zone "if you know what I mean"...he had so much crack he'd make a plumber blush! Anyway I felt it my duty to get out of the car and let him know that smoking was not advisable at the crash site. He was not happy with me. Butt (ha ha, intentional misspelling) I was concerned that my car might blow up from a gas leak or worse...something oozing from Guido's charming backside decolletage. I still get the shivers!
Soon my appointed military investigator/interpreter shows up and advises me and Dad to play stupid. This of course took no effort at all. We both donned our best "duh" expression and stood to the sidelines. I am sure my caveman Italian skills could have smoothed things over...but I acquiesced and agreed to let Nick work his magic. I was so useless in fact that I was allowed to go home and make Dad and Nick a sandwich and bring them a Coke.
The Italian mama's boys (aged 21 and 28) returned to the scene. The driver had a broken arm and the passenger had 16 stitches in his head. Their mama's were at the site by now and it was just one big Italian love fest...apologies all around...I think...maybe...anyway no one was ticketed or hauled off to jail. Dad is still allowed to gallivant around Europe...no paperwork at the site. The security guard wants his picture taken with me, and the boys drive off with their mama's waving and smiling. Whew! We head to the support site and drop Taryn off at school, fill out a claim with USAA, Nick has already had my Element towed and I'll never see it again. By 2:30 pm Dad and I hop on the tour bus and we're off for a wine tasteing and dinner. Mama Mia! Next week I think I'll buy a Vespa...ha ha ha!
Yep, the only thing missing was the Windex. Our Big Fat Italian Car Crash!!!!
And it's probably hard to tell from these pictures but notice that I'm wearing a brace on my right hand. Turns out on my first day of school in Newport, while walking to class, I slipped on the ice and fractured my radius. Ouch! Luckily it's a stable fracture and I'm now only wearing a splint at night. It'll sure be nice when I get my full range of motion back in my wrist though. It's still pretty tender. After all, as luck would have it, I am right handed. Murphy's law I guess!
