Bachelorette party weekends: They could start worse

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My bachelorette party is this weekend. My bridal party and I, plus some close girlfriends, are headed down to Rehoboth Beach for three glorious days away from work, stress and wedding planning. Today was my last day at work so naturally as I pulled away from my office building I was excited to finally start my big weekend.

That was when I got rear-ended.

Whether the guy was not paying attention or the rain made the streets too slick for him to stop in time, he slammed his Chevy Suburban into the back of my Nissan Xterra. My not-yet-two-weeks-old, haven’t-made-the-first-payment Nissan Xterra. The Xterra I bought to replace my old Honda, which had been rear-ended, repaired, rear-ended again and finally totaled in less than a month’s time.

In case you weren’t adding it up, that’s three times in less than two months that one of the vehicles I owned was involved in a motor vehicle collision. My insurance company probably knows my name and number by heart by now. My sister told me I should give up on driving and just start riding a bike. I shudder to imagine getting rear-ended while riding a bike.

Of course, as soon as the guy hit me, I started crying. We were supposed to take my car to the beach with us, and we had a ton of stuff to take with us, so we needed the space. I had just finished arguing – and even threatening legal action – with the insurance company of the guy who hit my Honda on the 4th of July. I had spent nearly $30 this weekend washing, waxing, and detailing my beautiful, brand new car. And now the guy who just slammed into the back of me was picking my bumper up off the street and handing it to me, like that was supposed to make up for it.

A witness called the police and we made the report. I was able to drive my car home. I texted my mom and close friends while he spoke to them, letting them know I had been in yet another rear-ending and that I was okay. No one could believe it.

But as I calmed down, I realized I was being silly. My best friend, who was carpooling with me, said it was no problem to take her car, assuring me that we would find a way to fit all of our stuff. My fiancé gave me a big hug and then called the insurance company for me. And most importantly, no one was hurt. The accident could have been much worse. It could have involved multiple cars, or someone might have been seriously injured or even killed.

So the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this whole thing is just really a minor inconvenience compared to what it could have been. And if that means the worst thing to come out of it is figuring out how to stuff a ton of stuff into a tiny Honda Accord, I’ll take it.