Some Ice Cream For Your Bruises

, , , , , , | Right | June 23, 2020

My favorite ice cream parlor is just about a twenty-minute walk from my house out of the residential neighborhood into a commercial area where two very busy streets intersect. Because of these streets, lots of drivers forget about the number of pedestrians in this area and just speed through.

On this particular day, I have just reached the parking lot of the ice cream store and am crossing it, totally legally. A car comes speeding across the parking lot and screeches to a halt — not before knocking me off my feet and onto the hood, however.

Driver: “GET OFF OF MY HOOD! OH, MY GOD! GET OFF OF IT!”

Me: *Bewildered* “I’m sorry! I—”

Driver: “F*** YOU!”

I limp away as quickly as I can with my bruised hip, before promptly realizing how dumb I was not taking his plate numbers. Feeling pretty down, I enter the parlor, where I’m a regular.

Employee #1: “[My Name]! Hey!”

Employee #2: “Are you okay?”

Me: “I got hit by a car on the way in!”

Employee #1: “Oh, my God! Where?”

Me: “In the parking lot.”

Employee #2: “I’m going to go ask [Boss] for the security tapes.”

Me: “Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

Employee #1: “And I’m going to sit you down and make you your usual. On the house.”

The boss was just as kind and concerned as the employees had been and ended up giving me two quarts of ice cream on the house. As it turned out, the guy who hit me had just stopped into the ice cream parlor himself! We couldn’t get his plates, but the employees assured me they would tell me if he came in again. I wouldn’t want to be that guy if they recognized him!

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It’s About The Journey, Dad

, , , , , | Related | June 20, 2020

This happens when my daughters are very young — around seven and five. My husband and I just took a road trip from Winnipeg, Manitoba to see my parents in British Columbia.

During our trip home, we intend to stop for the night in Edmonton, Alberta, but we get a flat tire. Luckily, we are able to make it to a garage with no problems, but by the time the tire is replaced, it is late afternoon.

Husband: “The way I see it, we have two choices. We can keep driving to Edmonton, but we won’t get there until around 9:00 pm.”

Me: “Yuck. That would be okay if it was just you and me, but the girls will be exhausted and cranky.”

Husband: “Yeah, I agree. That leaves us with option #2: stop somewhere else. Jasper isn’t that far away.”

Me: “Huh. I’ve never been to Jasper. It’s a bit expensive, though, isn’t it?”

Husband: “So I’ve heard, but that’s our best bet.”

Me: “Option #2 it is. I’ll phone the hotel in Edmonton and cancel our reservation.”

So, we head for Jasper. We are a bit concerned that we won’t be able to find a place to stay, but after only a couple of tries, we find a nice hotel. It is indeed a bit more pricey than the Edmonton hotel would have been in, but not by much. Jasper itself is beautiful; it’s surrounded by mountains and the town is charming. We have a lovely dinner in a cozy restaurant, and then we turn in for the night, happy and comfortable.

The following day, I phone my parents to let them know how our drive home is going, and I tell them of our little adventure.

Dad: What?! You stayed in Jasper?! Are you nuts? That’s a tourist trap! They charge you an arm and a leg! Why didn’t you drive to Edmonton?”

Me: “I told you, Dad. The kids would’ve been miserable, and so would we.”

Dad: “Oh, for Pete’s sake. They would have survived.”

Me: “Jasper wasn’t even that expensive, and we had a really nice time.”

Dad: *Sarcastically* “Well, good to know that you’re made of money.”

I gave up at that point. I should have remembered that when my parents and I took road trips when I was a kid, Dad was the “drive for as long as possible until your passengers are in tears from discomfort and boredom and then stay in the very cheapest motel you can find” type.

To this day, my family and I reminisce about that evening in Jasper. It was one of the highlights of our vacation.

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Unobservant Animal Lovers Increasing Insurance Rates

, , , , , , | Friendly | June 18, 2020

It’s a warm summer day, about 75 degrees. My dog goes for a ride with me to pick up some groceries. I go into the store, and I leave the windows open an inch or so and the car running with the AC on.

I am in the store for twenty or thirty minutes. When I come back out, my car window is smashed, and there’s a note that says, “Hey, dumba**, take care of your dog! It’s too hot out for this.” 

Thank God my dog is a good boy and stayed in the car. I still never got to meet the person who did it, but it really upset me that I had to pay for a new window.

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Unfiltered Story #196571

, , | Unfiltered | June 15, 2020

(Me and my mother are in-line for a tollbooth. After we pay and go, my mother tells me about a conversation between the tollbooth worker and the driver before us. It went a little like this)

Worker: Would you like a receipt?

Driver: No, thank you.
(The driver remains stopped beside the toll booth.)
Worker: Do you need something?

Driver: My receipt.

Should’ve Left That Confession In The Drafts

, , , , , | Legal | June 13, 2020

Back when they first made texting and driving illegal, a lot of people were still doing it.

My friend is rammed by another woman in a parking garage. When the police officer shows up, he thinks the woman who rammed my friend was just looking for a parking space, so he is writing a warning. 

Woman: “I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have been texting—”

Police Officer: “What?! Texting?!”

He ripped up the warning and gave her a very expensive ticket, instead.


This story has been included in our June 2020 roundup as one of that month’s most memorable stories!

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