Franklin Avenue

Nightmare on Franklin Avenue
The namesake street of this here blog hasn't been kind to my car. Two years ago, parked near the Shakespeare Bridge, someone smashed into the back of my trusty Honda Civic at about 5 a.m.-- and drove off. That's when I learned the cardinal rule of Franklin Avenue: Don't park at the top of the hill, because drivers (especially drunk ones at 5 in the morning) will speed up, not see your car and... SLAM!

Fast-forward two years. I haven't parked in that spot-- the scene of the crime-- ever since the last collision, for fear of another drunk speeder. Other people with more cojones did park their cars there, with nary a scratch.

Friday night, with parking a premium on Franklin, the only spot available was said Death Spot. The Spot I've avoided for two years. The Spot where my Honda was reduced to tears.

I decided to take a chance. What were the odds, I thought. No way lightning will strike twice. No one had been smacked in that spot in those two years, I rationalized. So I parked there. And didn't give it another thought.

Until Saturday morning. 8:15 a.m. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I get out of bed right when I hear someone's car skidding on the pavement and careening out of control.

SMASH!

I knew immediately they had hit my car. I grabbed a pen and pad, threw on some shoes and ran outside (still wearing my VH1 "Pop-Up Video" boxer shorts, which contain little pop-up bubbles with factoids about... boxers). A group of teens had torn off a chunk of my Honda's back side. And totaled the front of their Toyota in the process. Happy Saturday.