Then I had to have a tiny mishap. This had to happen:
The car park entrance/exit were rather narrow. And my sense of directions is so bad that I couldn't remember if the exit was on the left or right. So I was trying to see where the exit was and drove way too close to the right side of the curb, on which rested this squarish pole. My car then proceeded to attach itself onto the said pole and as I drove forward some more, the side bar thingy, whatever you call it, decided that it felt like tearing itself away from the car.
Great. Great great fucking great. At that time I had no idea what happened. I felt my car hit the pole, and I saw that my car had hit the pole in my right side mirror. The exit barrier had already lifted and I didn't really know what the right thing to do was, so I thought, Hurry go out now! I tried to reverse, but I was stuck, so I drove forward - and tore out the side bar thingy.
And I only discovered that I'd damaged the car when I stopped at a bus stop and got out to see what happened.
The next thing I thought of was to fix it before my parents find out, so I drove to Autobacs (some car repair centre thingy) where I almost went nuts with anxiety but was ultimately told that the side bar thing was completely damaged and had to be replaced, but they had to order it in and it could not be done within the day.
Shit fuck die. The dude was like, "You want to hide this from your parents is it?" It was pretty obvious, seeing as I was the ONLY GIRL in the entire place and I look as young as I do.
In the end I was resigned to my fate and I said 'thanks I'll ask my parents' and I drove home and I told my mom and surprisingly she didn't kill me, but my dad's not home yet and I suspect he's gonna kill me so I'm not breathing any sigh of relief yet.
More importantly I'm quite afraid of driving now. My mom's not banning me from the car like I thought she would (I'm pretty sure my dad would though); instead it looks like I'm gonna be banning myself from the car. On the way home from Autobacs I drove slower than usual and I was half-afraid that I was going to hit something. It's fucking traumatising, I tell you.
Maybe it's really time to get a new car. I mean, the Toyota's rather shit, if you want my honest opinion. It takes forever to speed up, and it makes a lot of strange noises. And I have no idea what I'm talking about; I'm still traumatised from that mishap at Kent Ridge. And it wasn't even my first time parking there; I'd been there once, a few weeks ago, and all was dandy, but today I just had to scrape off half the side bar and probably burn $260 in MY OWN DAMN POCKET to fix it.
Fuck lah. Why do these things happen to me? I hope my dad doesn't kill me. SIGH.