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Lets crumple a few cars Unlike the rest of you poor sods out there, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt there is a supreme being. Why? Because the misfortunes that befall me happen with such regularity they can not be random, there has to be an intellect behind them. I lay awake at night wondering why me? Am I just God’s hacky sack? Early one morning my blissfull slumber is awakened by the obnoxious ring of the telephone. It seems that my wife's brakes misfired, failed or something and she rear-ended somebody, who in turn rear-ended somebody else. Like any concerned husband I asked if she was injured in any way, and lucky for me she wasn’t (hmmm, lucky and me just doesn’t fit well). However, her car was totaled as was one of the other two cars. Quickly putting on some clothes, I rushed to the accident site and find that she was right. Her car was a crumpled mess, as was the Mercedes she hit. Yes, you read it right. She totaled a Mercedes! Heaven help me if it belongs to a lawyer. The third car in this little mess was a really nice big pick up truck with not much more that a scratched bumper. No wonder the Mercedes was folded in half. Everybody on site was glad there were no injuries and each exchanged information. Nobody said it, but we all knew my wife was at fault. I wonder if she inherited her mother’s inability to focus on things other than what concerns her. Insurance paid off the crumpled car, and we made arrangements for a replacement. After hunting around, we found a nice one that she was happy with. Seven days later, we are on our way to Disneyland to renew our annual passports. Disney cast members directed us to make a right turn on a city street and head to their parking structure. As we are sitting in the right-hand lane waiting to turn, the super sized truck in front of us decides he needs to be where we are. His backup lights pop on and he moves back and on top of us, crunching the hood, fenders, and radiator in the process. After only seven days and at a dead stand still, she’d had another accident. I was so happy that he admitted fault completely, and his insurance company paid for all repairs, including a rental car. Five days later, we are out for dinner, using the the rental car, when some nit-wit gang member decides that this rental car is the prefect place to place his gang sign. He gouges his predator-like symbol in the door, nice and big for the world to see. Guess what? That isn’t covered by his insurance policy (ok, I didn’t even check). In the last great kiss-off of the adventure, the rental car was painted in a non-standard color. The dealer couldn’t match it and so I had to fork over the nice tidy sum of $1000.