My sister is okay. I was not convinced that she was fine until I talked to her for myself. I guess if she’d had wounds I would have insisted on putting my hands in them. She taught a whole school day in shock, since she was still in shock when I talked to her late that afternoon. Her twin concerns on Wednesday evening were the logistics of replacing her crumpled Alero and the mockery she’d get from our brothers for her “poor” driving. She was so afraid that Dave and Tom would be cruel to her, but she hadn’t reckoned on their love. Of car shopping.
Apparently now that we are reassured that she is intact and unconcussed, the guys have taken the opportunity (and promise of insurance money) to find her a new car. Of course, this car hunt was not complete until they dragged Tim into the conversation via speakerphone.
The first step was to determine how much insurance money she’s likely to receive for the Alero. Let me be clear that the only reason I even know she was driving an “Alero” is because it came up in the loudly-broadcast speakerphone conversation. I am carlexic and have no ability to distinguish between car brands and styles. At one point the guys were asking her to distinguish between a series of meaningless letters. (“Was at GX, a GLS or an QRSTUVW?”) When she couldn’t tell them, my very own loving husband loudly exclaimed “How can you have driven it for 5 years and not know that? You are such a girl. Did have 2 or 4 doors? Do you at least know that?”
After patiently enduring the vacuum of information coming from Miss Bee, everyone moved forward with Phase Two, which consisted of looking at other cars on the Internet. I have a feeling that our Christmas visit to Indiana will be spent on various car lots. Which for me will be somewhat like trying to decide which marshmallow is the best. Personally, I don’t think she needs to get any of those 3 guys Christmas presents. They’re having enough fun already.