I just drove our formerly perfectly-maintained ’97 Corolla into the support pylon of our street-front garage.
Score: one garage door, one side fender. Match to pylon.
Maybe I don’t really need a driver’s license after all, and all these years of avoiding it were for a reason.
Oh my.
Oh dear. You poor man. My sympathy…
Um, I missed something; when exactly did you make the leap?
ouch! That has to hurt. Everything still standing?