Watch out, Mr. Garbage Can

            My car seems to be a magnet for garbage cans. Not that my car's being used as a trash bin. It's that my car has built-in radar for garbage cans on the side of the road.

            The result is I keep knocking the side rear-view mirror off my car.

            Let me address your "how-blind-is-she" questions right off the bat.

            These were big garbage cans, the big-as-an-elephant ones.

            These garbage cans were not camouflaged or hiding behind a big bush. One was bright blue and one was bright green.

            I hit them. Plain and simple.

            Now for the explanation.

            I was coming home from Louisiana down Highway 64, a pretty stretch of road with houses set far back from the highway. I spotted a big plastic garbage can at the very end of someone's driveway.

            The can was sticking out into the road a little bit, but I figured I could get around it with no problem. Until a speeding F-150 truck came along in the opposite lane, a truck extremely close to the middle line.

            I realized I had to take my chances with either the garbage can or the F-150. I chose the garbage can.

            Bam! I thought for sure I'd knocked the entire rear-view mirror assembly off the car. Luckily, I saw the assembly was still there, but the mirror was gone.

            As I'm a cheapskate, I turned around and found the mirror – intact – right next to that huge garbage can.

            I stopped at my son's house on the way home, and he shoved the mirror back on.

            He then asked if I was going to tell his father about my encounter with the garbage can.

            "Are you kidding," I said. "Why in the world would I ever admit to such a stupid mistake?"

            Truth is, that garbage can wasn't the first thing I'd hit with my car. A mailbox comes to mind. The house. The lawnmower trailer. About 20 curbs. And the trash unit at the Chinese restaurant.

            I'd never damaged my car or the things I hit, except the house, so I conveniently filed this garbage can incident away under the "let's not mention this again" tab.

            Until I was backing out of my son's driveway last week.

            Bam! I hit their garbage can. Their big, industrial-sized garbage can. In my defense, it was either hit the garbage can or go into the ditch. I chose the garbage can.

            A few days later, I noticed the mirror was gone.

            I called my son and daughter-in-law and asked them to look around to see if the mirror was in front of their place. No luck.

            I looked in their ditch with a flashlight and drove up and down the roads by their house, looking for that mirror.

            Gone.

            I knew at this point I'd have to tell my husband what happened.

            "So you didn't tell me about the first run in you had with the garbage can," he said when I finished my story.

            "Why should I embarrass myself if I didn't need to do so," I said in return. "Only an idiot would do that. "

            Immediately I thought "Only an idiot would run into a garbage can... twice."

            To his credit, my husband only said we'd order a new mirror and it wasn't a big deal.

            Forty-six dollars later, there's a snug, new mirror on the side of my car. I now have my radar on full alert for any garbage cans loitering near the edge of the highway, their hungry handles set on my rear-view mirror.

            I have two words for you, Mr. Garbage Can.

            En garde.  

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.