Amy's "Choose-Your-Own-Adventure" Story: The Car Accident

 So...there I am on a peaceful Sunday morning, lounging in my chair beneath my cozy electric blanket...fresh from a hot, soapy shower, clad in my comfy wine-colored robe when...BAM! The dogs erupt and I lunge from my chair. Out the window, in the middle of my now-destroyed lawn, sat a midnight blue Jeep 4 X 4. A blonde woman with a high ponytail was busy mouthing the words of what appeared to be the ingredients to a batch of dark chocolate fudge as she punched at her steering wheel.

SCENARIO #1:

After quickly trading her slippers for muck boots, Amy dashes out the door wearing her wine-colored robe. "Are you okay?" she gently asks the driver. Grasping her elbow with a steadying hand, Amy guides the shaken woman into the house and makes her a soothing cup of hot cocoa. She leaves out the marshmallows as this is a serious occasion. "I'm so sorry about your lawn and mailbox," the woman sniffles, calming as she sips her cup of serious hot chocolate. Amy waves her hand dismissively. "It's nothing at all to worry about. Easily replaced. I'm just glad that you're okay." The two woman exchange a warm look and immediately become lifelong friends.

SCENARIO #2:

After quickly trading her slippers for muck boots, Amy dashes out the door wearing her wine-colored

Checking my neighbor's mail. It was
 delivered  "ground."

robe just in time to see this high-tailed terrain terrorist take out more of the lawn as she fled the scene. Stunned, Amy stood in the middle of the road as the Jeep wobbled away. After Amy shouted some words regarding the parental lineage of the perpetrator, she raced into the house for the keys to her brother-in-law's car. Still wearing her wine-colored robe and muck boots, Amy pursued this grass gangster. Hunched over the steering wheel, squinting through the windshield, Amy scoured the road ahead, intent on apprehending this ne'er-do-well and bring her to justice. But she reached the metaphoric end-of-the-road (which she'd traveled at a safe and legally-recommended speed) with no success. "That high-tailer sustained significant body damage to the driver's side of the vehicle," Amy mused thoughtfully, "and busted out her windshield. She couldn't have gotten far." Realizing that her quarry had a better understanding of the region than Amy had been led to believe
(due to her total ignorance of how to keep a car successfully on a road combined with a deplorable lack of morals when it comes to squishing someone's mailbox beyond recognition), Amy raced (at a safe and legally-recommended speed) around the country block to the seasonal road that intersected the area. A-ha! There she was! Amy beeped and flashed her lights at the on-coming Jeep. Nothing. Amy spun around (at a at a safe and legally-recommended speed) and followed, taking note of the make and model of the vehicle and beginning a tribal chant of the license plate number as she'd forgotten her cell phone and neglected to keep a pen and paper in the pocket of her wine-colored robe. After several miles, Amy decided to call off the chase as:
(a) she didn't wish to be viewed screaming at high ponytail alongside a busy highway and,
(b) running High Ponytail off the road, while emotionally satisfying, didn't seem responsible. Moral highroad and all that.

Returning home, Amy called the police and reported her findings. The dispatcher was understandably impressed with Amy's keen observational skills until Amy finally admitted that she went vigilante on High Ponytail. "We don't normally recommend that, ma'am," Amy was told. Amy was ashamed. When the dispatcher explained that a police unit would be sent to the house, Amy requested a postponement. "This isn't court," the woman said patiently. "I know that I might not appear to be the best Christian in the world on the basis of this phone call but..." Amy paused at what seemed to be a stifled snort on the other end of the phone, "Normally I would cancel going to church," Amy continued apologetically, "but I'm doing the first reading and I have some REALLY big words that I'm responsible for so can we meet later in the day?"

Appointment made, Amy then just had to deal with "Dukes of Hazards" jokes from her husband and brother-in-law for the remainder of the day. When they arrived back from a morning of hunting, they stood looking at the destroyed lawn. "What on earth happened?" Brad asked as he came in the door. Amy sighed, disappointed. She had envisioned a Prince Humperdinck-moment from The Princess Bride. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day...hmmm...Car parked askew? Lawn dug up? Mail boxes obliterated? Amy's slippers in the middle of dining room? A-ha! A blond driver of a midnight blue Jeep 4 X 4 with a high ponytail fled the scene with my wife in her wine-colored robe in pursuit! No. Instead Amy got: "What on earth happened?" "Why didn't you keep following her?" "Do you see yourself more in the role of one of the Duke boys or Roscoe P. Coltrane?"

Me in the police truck. I think.

Later that afternoon, the police arrived. Amy rushed out, eager to provide her testimony. "Don't forget to get a picture of me sitting in the police car," she yelled before slamming the door behind her. She waited patiently in the cold for the officer to exit the vehicle to examine the scene. Her neighbor had arrived earlier and Amy insisted that he leave his crushed mail in the box so as to not contaminate the evidence. The officer waved at her to get in his truck so she "wouldn't be cold." Amy began rattling off her critical information. He wasn't interested. Eyeballing the craters in my lawn, he spit-balled, "What do you think...about $100 worth of damage?" Amy waited for him to conduct a paint-chip analysis, put out those adorable little numbered signs before taking numerous photos from every possible angle...or at least GET OUT OF THE TRUCK! "Do you need me to sign anything," she asked hopefully as he concluded the interview. Amy glanced out the passenger window to offer Brad a wide grin as he took a close-up picture of her as an official police witness. "No," the officer said, "Stop by headquarters if you want the report to submit for your homeowner's insurance." Let down, Amy sighed as he drove away. Police work isn't always pretty. Neither is the lawn.