The first time I was hit by an old lady on a motorized scooter was in 1998. I was shopping for school supplies at the Wal-Mart and was looking at the markers, trying to decide between classic colors and bold colors. (PS: Always go classic. Bold means teal and that’s just silly.) One minute I’m holding two boxes of markers and playing Eeny Meeny Mieny Mo and the next minute I’m on the ground, having been run over by an old woman on a motorized scooter. See, she thought she was in drive but apparently she was actually in reverse, which led to BOOM which led to my ass on the floor.

She was quite embarrassed and apologetic, as old ladies who run you over with scooters are likely to be.
Believe me. I know.
Because this weekend? I was at a local craft store buying supplies to turn my brokenfootboot into something lovely. I was in the aisle with the rhinestones, trying to decide between clear and colorful (PS: Both. Always both.). One minute I’m holding bags of pretty sparkly plastic jewels and the next minute I’m on the ground, having been run over by another, more different old lady on a motorized scooter. Again, she thought she was in drive but was actually in reverse. Again, very embarrassed and apologetic. 12 years later and nothing had changed. Except this time, the wheels of her scooter ran right over the top of my brokenfootboot, which is actually not very protective. And the weight of her scooter on my brokenfootboot caused my broken foot to become likely more broken.
Because OUCH. And OMG. And also I cried. And apologized to the poor old lady for my tears because it was an accident.
I limped up to the counter, purchased my crafty supplies, and went out to the parking lot, ready to get in my car and drive home, where I would put my foot up and spend the afternoon with ice packs.
But then. I got to my car and was taking off the boot (because I can’t drive with this hard plastic monstrosity) when a man in a truck pulled up behind me, blocking my car into my spot.
Man in Truck: HEY!
Me: Yes?
Man in Truck: Your hubcap is missing, did you know?
Me: What? Where??
Man in Truck: On the passenger side, back tire.
Me: (going to look) Omigosh! How did you see that from there?
Man in Truck: I can sell you a hubcap. I have them in my truck. I’ll sell you one.
Me: (realizing this dude probably just stole my hubcap) No thank, I’m good.
Man in Truck: I’ll only charge you $25. Take it to the dealership and they’ll charge $60 at least. You’re being stupid. This is what I do. Here’s my card.
Me: No thank you, I’ll figure it out later.
Man in Truck: You shouldn’t drive around like that; I’ll lower my price to $20.
Me: Really really no. But thank you.
Man in Truck: (gets curse-y and drives away)

He totes stole my hubcap, right guys? That was a total setup? So now my foot is swollen to twice its normal size, my hubcap is gone, and my boot isn’t pretty. Very rough afternoon.
There’s a happy ending to this story though. Through sheer determination and pluck (and with the help of my roommate Clay, who took over the rhinestone work when I got bored, as I am quick to do with craft projects, thank you ADD), I turned this:
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Into this:
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Amazing, right? I even have some rhinestones left. I think I’ll go glue them to my tire, where the hubcap used to be.
Moral: Watch out for old ladies on motorized scooters. And maybe booby trap your hubcaps.

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