Stupid 16-year old high school boys!
I am so pissed right now. After 3 weeks of not going home, I decide to be a good kid and so I went off wasting P250 pesos worth of gasoline. I braved the traffic in MIA road and it took me a good 2 hours before I parked my car in front of our house. Since it was full parking in our garage, I parked my car at one side of the street. No worries there was such a huge gap that you can maneuver an F150 with ease.
So I went on greeting my mom who offered blueberry muffins and told me about the sweltering heat in Pangasinan. I haven’t quite warmed the couch when we heard a really obnoxious horn blast from outside. My spidersense started acting up so I told my dad to see if anything was wrong, he came back saying there wasn’t. I know my dad got a bit nervous as well so he asked for my keys so he can move it into the garage and then he was hollering for me to go out.
My car got hit! B A D L Y. Worse, there was no one who owned up to it.
Dad thinks he saw the car and it’s the blue car owned by the 16 year old kid who lives 3 houses down from us. There was a car almost turning into our street but backed out as if because we were all standing at the middle of the street. Mark’s car (he’s the 16-year old) went through the street again and two additional kids jumped into the car. They seemed to be very hesitant about something and kept on stalling. I even got to write the plate number because they can’t seem to make up their mind to move or stay. By that time, I was pretty confident they knew something about what happened.
Good thing, my sister had Mark’s phone number so we called and asked in haughty english if he hit my car, the immediate answer that I got was “I dont know. Please talk to my driver.” Apparently, the driver was also another idiotic kid and when I asked the same question, the only answer that I got was “the Mazda 3?” At least, he’s showing to be a good observer that has good memory. But I am far from amused. By this time, my dad is already with Mark’s mom and I was already bitching on the phone. The kids were refusing to go back home since they were already at a party and I, using not so good words, told them they better haul their ass and their car in front of our house within the hour. It wasn’t even a pretty conversation with the mom who I felt we were threatening his son. I wasn’t too happy with her either.
It took 3 more phone conversations before they agreed to drive home so we can take a look at their car. Somewhere within the 3 phone calls, his mom even went back to our house to tell my dad that she had confirmed with her son that it wasn’t them who hit the car. So bring over the car and show us, duh? I refused to join the conversation anymore because I knew I was on the bordering rude level and the last thing I want is to have enemies that live just 3 houses away.
Dad came back to tell me that Mark finally owned up to it. What the fuck were these kids thinking???? Four phone calls of lies, lies, lies and more lies. How can you remove traces of a car hit at 10 in the evening? News flash: no shop makes repairs at 10 in the evening.
Thanks for pissing me off on the only night I am home…and for the excitement that I am currently feeling at a few weeks of driving a wrecked car…again.