After dropping off laundry this morning, I was driving along listening to Alexandra Rousseau on WZBC reading off show listings, thinking that 18 Wheels of Justice was an amusing name for a band. (Aside: they're really much too angry for my tastes.) Because driving through Cantabridgia is a little like trying to get around in a Medieval walled city, I ended up in one of the inevitable traffic tangles and got to inch my way up the street. When it appeared that I had a spot of open road, a gent came out into the street, signalled me to stop, and then began to guide an Anheuser-Busch truck that was backing out of the parking lot across the street.
I'm sure you see where this is going.
The back end of the trailer cleared with no problem, but as he was straightening out, the front end of the trailer kept moving towards me like a huge, rolling white wall. I laid on the horn, but it was too late, and now I get to go get damage appraised. Zoe's second battle scar, and the second that occurred when the car wasn't moving.