There, He Fixed It

So, in February I went to the Happy Dog, a place on the west side of Cleveland that only serves hot dogs, tater tots, and french fries. You have your pick of about 50 toppings, though -- everything from a fried egg or bacon to gourmet versions of your standard ketchup, mustard, onions, and sauerkraut. Check it:

Anyhow, parking is kind of sketchy over there, and I sort of hit a pole when I was backing out of what purported to be a parking lot for the Dog. Thus, my essentially brand-new car had this horrendous gash in the bumper.

What's that? You need a magnifying glass to see it? Fine.

See? Hideous! 

The dealer recommended replacing the bumper for the low, low fee of $900. I kind of wanted to get it fixed, because I hated seeing the gouged place every time I walked by the car, but my parents were all like, Whaa? I can hardly see it! Don't waste your money! That, plus my natural laziness, meant that I never got around to setting up an appointment to have it fixed. 

When I was at my parents' house last weekend, I was telling them how I was telling someone at work how apparently I'm not allowed to drive in reverse, because at OU I backed into a pole that left a dent in the metal bumper of the 1985 Mercury Marquis I was driving. However, that ding was nothing compared to the damage I did to that car when I jammed it against a pole at the Cascade parking deck in downtown Akron. I thought my dad would kill me, but he just pounded out the worst of the dent and used some duct tape to keep the turn signal cover in place. 

As I was telling all of that to the coworker, it occurred to me that my new car is silver . . . duct tape is silver . . . my dad is just going to tell me to put some duct tape on it and be done with it. 

As I was relating all of that to my parents, my dad laughed and said yes, exactly.

Thus, as I was leaving on Sunday, he said, Hey, look at your bumper! 

In the grand tradition of There, I Fixed It,  my car now looks like this:

Thanks, Dad!

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