I'm the stupidest, luckiest person on the planet.
Last night I was delivering some pictures and I parked in front of a house on a steep hill, nose of the car facing downward. Did I turn the wheel so the tire would be toed into the curb? No. Did I put the transmission into reverse? No, first gear is enough. Did I trust my crappy little parking brake? Yes.
Got out of the car, shut the door. Went to the passenger's side, pulled out my frames, and made it almost to the front door before I heard something making a clunking noise. What, oh pray tell, could that possibly be? Turned around to hear myself say, "is my car moving--oh **** yes it is!"
Dropped my frames and went running after it. Though I may be able to catch up to it, and couldn't possibly have been me shrieking, nooooo, my voice is nowhere near that shrill.
The car was picking up speed, I wasn't. Just as the visions, of my car plowing itself underneath the Silverado parked about seventy five feet down the road, crystallized in my mind, my car veered into the center of the street. Picking up more speed my car seemed to have its heart set on a mailbox forty or so feet beyond the truck. I felt relief, destroying someone's mailbox is a whole lot cheeper than their car. And when my car brushed the curb it veered back into the street. Yes! I may have even smiled. And then with the car truly hauling ass, reality set in when I realized that in the path of my car was now the end of the street, a well sodded yard, and a beautiful, leaded glass, bay window.
The car hit the curb, sparks flying from the undercarriage, hopped the sidewalk, and into the yard.
Lady luck showed her sense of humor. The tires dug into the sod and the wheel turned until it was at full lock. My car missed the shrubs, missed the bay window, missed the flower beds, it just slowed as it turned into a tight circle and settled, half on half off, of a stranger's driveway.
I continued to run to my car like a little girl, hopped in, and she started right up. Only traces I had been there were a scrape on a curb, and some tire impressions in a yard. Lucky, lucky, lucky. Drove back up the street, parked in the drive this time, gathered my images out of the yard, and knocked on my clients' door. They didn't see any of it, thought I just pulled up, did offer me a glass of water though.
Lucky, lucky, lucky. Didn't mash up my car, didn't mash up someone else's car, nor living room nor end up on the 11:00 news--and I got paid before I left (panting). Someone else want to drive? I'm going to sit here for a while.