bust your windows outcha car.

Impressed by my unusual morning punctuality, I sling my purse over my shoulder and lock the back door. A few skip-steps through the gate, I round the front of my Pathfinder. The car key gravitates toward the keyhole, but falters, lowers like my jaw. I didn’t leave the window down...glass? Wh—how? Where’s...? Oh no...oh no, oh no, oh NO.

The glass shards glitter on the empty street and against the car’s red interior. Over strewn papers and CDs, my dash hangs—gutted—next to the open glove box and arm rest compartment. I stand dumbstruck, sweating in my cardigan and slacks, willing myself not to cry.

While this won't go down in my history of Best Mornings Ever, I can’t say it was one of my worst. Everyone loses money over car expenses, and that always sucks. However, today, the summation of simple kindnesses outweighs the pretty pennies spent. My neighbor came outside to sit with me until the police came. She spotted that, oddly enough, my iPod dangled from the glove box, left behind. The police officer swept glass out of my car and moved the busted window into the trash bin. My neighbor then took me to new teacher orientation, where I wasn’t penalized for being an hour and a half late. Meanwhile, Dad drove up to take my car in for a new window pane and see about replacing my stereo, because he insisted. A friend from training drove me across the city to my car. Though Stereo Stealer disconnected my A/C in the gutting process, Kwik Kar hooked it back up at no charge.

So now, eleven hours after a disappointing start, I’m singing praises for good citizens and a surprisingly non-detrimental perspective. And let's not forget, it's dinnertime. That ain't too shabby, folks.