MckMama is teaching all of us in blog world to be brutally honest and live to tell about it.
Here goes:
I would NEVER, ever drive and talk on my cell phone at the same time on a pretty Saturday afternoon.
Furthermore, I would not even DREAM of driving without my hands at ten and two and without constantly glancing behind me in my rearview, up ahead on the road, and in my side mirrors. Another thing I would never do is get so ridiculously lost in conversation with my dear friend that I forget what else I am doing: operating a motor vehicle.
Sheesh. What kind of person do you think I am??
I would never, ever look up and realize that I am headed for the hind end of an Aztec. Since that would NEVER happen, there would be no need for me to lock up my brakes, right?
{Not me, folks. CLEARLY not me.}
Since those things would never happen, you KNOW that I didn't hit that Aztec in the back. I didn't rear-end that Aztec. Never. And I sure didn't hit it very HARD!
I certainly did not see my life flash before me, and of course I didn't cry and shake like a newborn hamster. An elderly gentlemen who did not look like George Burns did not climb out of the car still chewing his cigar (I would have bit it clean in two if I got rear-ended) and tell me, "It's okay, honey. These things happen."
There's no way I would've wrecked my car in front of the new First Federal on the main drag in Washington, and that makes it impossible for me to have stood on the side of the road with snot dripping from my nose and long sleeves on in the blazing heat looking on awkwardly as the cars passed. Bloggerotsky, please. I have way more class than that! And I most certainly did not not take a shower that morning and have nasty hair. Because that would be so gross and awkward. I would have never sweat even more on the side of the road and have my hair go from nasty to nasty and stringy.
There is no chance that the Emergency officials saw EVERYTHING, from lock up to impact, because they would never be showing off their antique fire engine in the bank parking lot.
I certainly did not act like a sixteen-year-old kid, apologizing over and over for my lack of discretion. I am way more mature than that, people.
I didn't call my daddy to come rescue me. He DID NOT take me out to Scoops to make me feel better.
And of course, I didn't total sweet little Darla, who has been with me through thick and thin since 2002. Her hood wasn't partially perpendicular to the car or anything. And it wasn't like a movie at all with the smoke pouring out of her engine.
I wasn't mad at all that my airbag didn't deploy.
I didn't cry a little more when I got to the body shop to see her in such a condition.
I would never not keep fancy clothes at my old homestead in Loogootee for emergency situations. I would never have to go raid Ashley's closet and wear a dress without a girdle of some sort. I was raised right!
I would never be slightly late to my speaking engagement and be totally frazzled. God would certainly never send my friend Colleen there to pray with me and calm me down before speaking to 30+ women.
I would never get in my dad's car and drive all the way to Oakland City only to figure out that my apartment keys were back in Loogootee. I wouldn't drive at 11pm to the Thompson's to sleep on their couch only to discover a horrible accident on Hwy. 61. I did not, of course, wait in my car for over 45 minutes as they brought the heliocopter in to lifelight someone out. I did not start crying all over again and thanking God to be alive.
I did not wear a black dress and weird-looking white shoes with my legs that did not need to be shaved to church and my toenails that did not need to be painted on Sunday because of limited wardrobe choices and limited time.
Because let's face it, my friends. I am soooo not That Girl. Not me!
