The other day when I arrived home, B was kind enough to open the fence for me. As I passed I asked him to check to see if there was a dent in my bumper.
B: Why would there be a dent in your bumper?
Me: Oh. I couldn't remember if I was in an accident this morning or not.
You see, that morning I was driving along the freeway I heard the distinct crunch of a plastic bumper. I looked up to see the guy behind me and the guy behind him pulling off to the side and wondered briefly if I was involved. I did not remember being jolted or feeling it occur.
Then I promptly forgot until I was driving by B.
However, what makes the above scenario that much more ridiculous is that it was not the first time we had such a conversation in the past couple of weeks. Let's rewind, shall we?
~couple weeks prior~
While sitting in our screened-in back porch, I suddenly remembered to ask B:
Me: Hey! Check the front right end of my truck to see if it has orange paint on it.
B: Why would it have orange paint on it?
Me: Maybe, I hit some barrels?
Oh, I hit some barrels. Let's just say it involved a bit of misjudgment on my part as to the speed of the car ahead of me, the tenancity of the semi truck next to me and my ability to slow down/stop on a dime.
Let's just say that maybe three barrels lost their life.
Let's just say I may have been completely mortified at having to stop at the side of the raod until I could get things under control.
I will say, though, there was no orange paint.