Day 100: The Crash

Students will be able to make revisions to their expository essay.

Yesterday, at about 6:30 AM, I was driving along the rural dark highway just before dawn on my way to school when a deer came out of nowhere and I hit it at 70 miles an hour.  It was very scary. Despite having crunched the front of my car destroying the grill, headlight, breaking off a chunk of the body, and rupturing something that made a hissing sound, my car miraculously continued to run long enough to get me to school.  I spent a good ten minutes standing in tears of shock when another teacher came up to hear my sob story and give me a hug in front of my totaled car.

Since I made it to school, I figured I might as well stay, but as I didn't feel much like teaching I swapped Thursday's and Friday's lesson plans, so the kids wrote and read and gave me time to process my near-death experience.  Of course, the kids LOVED my story; I talk about my crappy old car all the time, so they felt much more emotional investment than their average faculty vehicle.  Sixth period requested that I donate it to a bash-fest; they said they'd pay me $1 per swing with a baseball bat.  Second period applauded - they were like, "Yay, you can finally get a new car!  You always complained about the old one..."

Yes, I complained, but with AFFECTION - it was a 1995 Eagle Vision, and my family has a lot of history with that car - it's broken down in many states.  I myself have been involved in minor accidents in it in Illinois, Georgia, and now Texas.  My brother had it towed in Wisconsin, and my father drove it for over a year in Indiana after the transmission had gone out; at a max speed of 40 mph (45 if you were going downhill), he referred to it as his "covered scooter" that he drove when the weather was too nasty for his 49 cc Honda Ruckus.  It hit 193,000 miles this past week.  I was hoping to take it all the way to 200,000 before buying something made in this millennium.  Some of my students hadn't realized I drove a car older than they were.

My poor baby...


















Notice my souvenir.

My husband picked me up after school; my Eagle still starts, but I'm seriously concerned about it overheating due to radiator issues or being pulled over due to lack of headlight.  The junk car place I called will only give me $250 (they do it by weight), so I am in the process of writing a totally awesome Craigslist ad, lest there be some mechanic who might want to fix it (happy thought) or sell it for parts but give me more money for it.  While this is not an optimal situation, in terms of timing it couldn't have been better.  We JUST repaired our '89 Firebird that's been in storage in our garage for four months, so I had a drivable car with a sexy T-top and an ipod input so I can listen to Dave Ramsey on the speakers instead of with one headphone in.  My father reassured me that I had given meaning to the end of this wonderful car's days, and I do get some satisfaction from that, although I was pumped to take it 200,000 miles; serious bummer we didn't make it that far.

While we did accomplish some things in class this week, the week of the 100th Day was really characterized by the passing of yet another of the twentieth-century vehicles I've inherited from my parents.  My '93 Pontiac Sunbird blew a head gasket in November of 2011; those keys hung proudly on our Christmas tree in memorial.  My father kindly offered their 1990 Chevy conversion van affectionately named "Big Blue", but I declined; I couldn't strain Blue with the drive from the midwest. For some reason my father didn't offer his Mercedes :)

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