Kilometre 4355

I've been a wee bit distracted lately, which might help explain the accident. My boss has been sending me offensive e-mails, thinking that as long as he leaves out the punctuation he can later argue context. I don't care how many happy faces you forget to put at the end of "eat shit and die", context is pretty solid. There's that, the fact that I had to remember that I couldn't use my regular parking stall, the new scratch in Baby's paint thanks to my neighbours and their new Jeep Liberty they've had for less than a WEEK. I've been busy watching movies and I've been fluish lately too, so maybe that's got something to do with it.
It was raining, visibility was sketchy and yes Enzo, maybe I will get some new wiper blades. It was dark, and I had AC/DC playing on the stereo loud because well, there's just no other way. Leaving the car park at campus, Baby spied a white C230 Kompressor. The Kompressor turned left at the three way stop, and we turned right, I guess in hindsight Baby might have been a little upset. On the lead up to the bridge, the part where we drive past all the luxury car dealerships, the armory and the brewery, a cute little silver Kompressor tucked in behind us. White halogens screaming in my rearview mirror, I figured that meant she was far enough behind me on account of I was higher than the Kompressor and normally I wouldn't see her halogens if she was too close. Besides, I had to worry more about what was in front of me and not behind. We had a green, and the sweeping right hand turn merges with other bridge lanes. Cautioning Baby not to fish-tail, we stayed close to the raised bike lane. The one thing about loud music is that it interferes with the other things you need to hear like ambulances and stuff, but in my case I couldn't hear the shifting well. I short shifted, and I revved high probably making Baby a little more pissy. Okay Baby, I'm turning Bonn Scott off. You win.
After the bridge, I turned right on Waterfront expecting a clear run past the dog park, the marina and the casino. But nooOOoo. I hit every light red on the way home, and then it happened. I was trolling for a parking space, and due to bad positioning and confused visitors I decided to park in one of the service stalls. That's technically a no-no and it normally comes with a free, furious finger-wagging from the caretaker. I guess I was bewildered by the anger of a visitor who thought it was ridiculous that we, the owners should want to clean the car park, but as she walked away I tapped the clutch just for a sec and Baby crept backward into the corner of the concrete wall. We actually bounced off the wall, and now I'm all whiplashy. All I can say is Thank You Jeep for continuing to mount spare tyres on the tailgate. When I went to look at the damage, I had visions of a whopping great dent in the metalwork like what Bobby did when he decided that it was time for Sissy's Jeep to make friends with a doorknob. I thought I understood that, but really the spare tyre should have wedged in and prevented the dent from taking place. Hmmm, I shall speak with Sissy about that. Maybe when Bobby gets back from Oregon, he will have some explaining. I read recently that many car manufacturers are doing away with spare tyres to make better use of space, but I'm glad Jeep still uses them and I hope they continue. I checked the concrete wall, no damage on a visual inspection. I checked Baby's back end. Nothing. Now the only evidence rests on the closed circuit camera tapes, and nobody watches those do they? Off to work!