I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Please don't hold a grudge. I need you to take me and the kids to day care, play dates, the flippin' orthodontist, and the grocery store. I know you don't want to go back there, and I wish we didn't have to, but it is inevitable. The bike trailer can only hold so much.
I promise I won't be as dumb as I was that day. It's just that the cart was sitting up on the sidewalk by the store when I pulled up. I took it inside and filled it with
I promise you I cringed when, just as we were backing out, I saw that cart roll ever-so-slowly, but unavoidably, unstoppably, across the sidewalk and off the curb, slamming right into your rear passenger door. I never meant to hurt you. You were the car we bought because we had a baby. You've served us well for over five years and 70,000 miles. I'm just sorry that karma bit you on the
How can I make it up to you?