What kind of fate could one suffer so as to ululate the proverbial, most simple and single-syllabled cry of denial with utmost urgency?
When my friends got word of my new role as a proud daddy of a hybrid baby, they have warned me that it will come - a dent, a scratch, a chip, a crack - and with myriad factors to cause it.
Another car door swung open in wanton abandon. Something sharp in someone's accessory brushing against the pristine coat. An ill-conceived prank tantamount to property damage.
In preparation, I have conditioned myself that, indeed, come it inevitably will. And so it did today!
I was parking Gino (a nickname I use when I baby him) head first and did not see the pavement was too high for his front. A loud creak and screech sent signals to my brain and down my spine that my baby is hurt. And it's his first!
I immediately reversed, ran to Gino's front and assessed the damage. The black hard plastic underneath took the beating. "Gino, nasugatan ka!" I said in shock and remorse. Darn pavement! :)
Oh, well. The consolation is that at least it was I who caused it. I'd go ballistic if it was someone else. I'm sure it will heal with an appropriate cleaner and conditioner.
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