My daddy's truck. When my dad past away a few years ago I didn't have the heart to sell his truck. It's not pretty but it runs and has low millage for it's age. It spends 95% of it's time parked beside the house behind the fence.
My husband moved it out onto to street in front of our house. He was going to drive it for a few days to get the oil running, so he says. I think he was getting tired of driving a minivan, who can blame him.
We were enjoying a nice Sunday afternoon movie when my daughter said, "hey, some lady's coming to our door." My husband went to check it out. As he's walking out the door he yells back to me, "the truck's been hit."
I could not see the side of the truck she hit when I first walked out and after looking at her car I didn't want to look. That truck is not worth much and it wouldn't take much for the insurance company to total it.
I got to the front of the truck took a deep breath and looked at the side that was hit.
Yup, that's where she got the burgandy paint. You can't even tell she hit it.
She caught her tire on the running board and smashed it in, must be what took the hunk out of her tire. I am very thankful that is the only damage to our property and even more thankful that no one was injured.
No wonder we only get five miles to the gallon, that things a TANK.
P.S. The lady that hit the truck just moved into the house beside us. What a way to meet your new neighbors.