Trying to help unload our gear and bags from the car, I moved our minivan closer to our room. Unfortunately, when backing up the minivan, though I did not hear, see, or feel it, my son witnessed me backing up into a concrete piling and in so doing bending at least one of my husband’s bike frames.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I have a bad history backing up that minivan. Two undeserving, unsuspecting cars have felt the heavy touch of my Toyota Sienna with me at the wheel obliviously backing up out of a parking space. Doesn’t take much for a huge old minivan with poor rear window visibility (especially when loaded with a rack of bikes) and a driver with even poorer depth perception to do significant damage.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The view from our room is beautiful, though.