Backing Out Of The Driveway Fail

Through a series of Seinfeldian mishaps this evening, I feel as embarrassed, as pathetic, as I've rarely felt in a long time.  I have to wake up every day from now on with these huge white streaks on the side of my car, and I can't blame anybody but myself because I did this to myself.

Well, I can say that there were a series of factors that contributed to my stupid, stupid mistake.  So I can wallow in my self-pity, I'll note those in chronological order:

• The oil level light on my car is on again.  Just to be sure, I decide to throw in some oil when I get a chance this weekend.
• My Father was headed to Las Vegas this weekend, and he told me about a week ago.
• My friend invited me out to the Lynx game on the 22nd, but it actually was the 15th -- last night.  So I have to go to work and then go to the game.
• My friend tells me he has plans but says he can still squeeze the game in.  He asks me if I still want to do it.  And I'm all, "Fuck yeah, let's do it!"
• The plan was to go out and get some Arby's to eat Saturday, then eat at home Sunday.  But Grandmother cooked pork chops on Saturday, so Mother and I decided to keep the Arby's coupon until Sunday.
• Today (Sunday) we close at 2 ... but Mother continues to do some things and we actually leave at 3, meaning I have about an hour to sleep when I could have used more.  I woke up at 4:30 very, very groggy.
• I drive to Arby's using my parents' minivan.  I park assuming I'll use it again.
• After asking for permission to drive to the game using her car, she remembers that she wants to drive somewhere that night and wants to use it.  Shit, she even suggests that she take my car as I take hers, but I decline because it's her car.
• I'm late leaving, as I usually am.
• Finally, I'm still resolute about putting oil in my car, so even though I ate a bit late with my folks, I dash out and put oil in my car.

And that's where we get to my fuck-up.  After putting oil in my car and dashing around to make sure I had everything, I back out of the driveway.  There, I see the minivan.  It's parked so that I have to move around it.  No biggie, I've done it before.

But what I didn't realize till it was too goddamn late was that I parked too far in my car's way and too far up.  That meant I had no room to maneuver around.  I scratched the antenna against the driver's-side mirror -- that's alright, my antenna needs to be replaced because it's broken.  But I figured that after I got my antenna past that mirror, I can just slide right by it.

Whoops.  Somehow, from my turning my front wheels back and forth and not being spatially aware, I pressed the side of my car against the side of my parents'.  No, I said to myself, I don't have any time to just go get the minivan keys from Mother.  So I get out of the car, re-evaluate, and get back in.  I should have turned my front tires so that the ass of my car pointed away from my minivan.

Once I did, after I got my car to the end of the driveway, I got out of the car to see if there was any damage.  Sadly for me, there was: Streaks on the passenger-side rear panels of the car.  And upon closer inspection after I got downtown, I have these stronger white scrapes around the rim of my passenger's-side rear wheel well.  I mean, it's bad.

My fucking God.  I want to blame the falling dominoes of circumstances leading to what happened on the driveway.  But I have to face facts: No one told me I had to park the minivan where and how I parked it.  This is all my fault, and I am mentally squirming to figure out how the hell I can make this right.  I can't.  And that's what angers me about myself worst of all.  I can't back out of my own goddamn driveway?  Yeah I was tired and busy and rushed and had a lot of things on my mind ... but I can't back out of my own goddamn driveway?

I hate spending money, but I have to rectify this.  That's why I'm deciding, I think, to cover up the scratches on my car.  I don't know how to do it, but I remember Father giving me polish and wax and telling me that I can do something about the scratches he saw on my car.  Well, after these really noticeable marks I made on my car, it's time.  I doubt I'll do it well -- I'll probably fuck it up -- but I'm desperate to fix this.

God, I feel so stupid.