The left front tire can just barely move underneath the smashed-up side, but only when the car is driving down a smooth, level surface. If bumps, defects or other such anamolies are encountered on the road surface, which as any Camberville resident knows is an extremely rare occurrence and clearly an oversight on the part of the magical Pavement Smoothing-Out Fairies, the tire jams up into the smashed-up section with a horrifying grinding noise. Clearly this means highway driving is right out for the time being. It also means the Zen-like feeling is fading and rather quickly.
There is the comedic option of informing my insurance agency as to what has happened and begging them to just send over a check and deal with the moving van company, but they're already raising my premium because I bothered to move to Somerville. I hate to think of what they'll charge now that I bothered to leave my car legally parked on a public street where any old moving van could back into it and smash it up. My father had a similar situation years ago in Andover, where his parked car was smashed into by some incompetent, and while I can't remember the full details of the situation I do know there was a terrible mix-up between the insurance agency and the Registry of Motor Vehicles, which as any Massachusetts resident knows is an extremely rare occurrence and clearly an oversight on the part of the magical Car Insurance Fairies. The upshot of this whole incident was that Dad couldn't legally drive his car for a year and became very good friends with the policemen in the area because apparently police cars make great taxicabs for seminary students in Andover. Love ya, Dad. Happy birthday by the way.
And the real joy is that I'll have to move the car again later today or early tomorrow, since the magical Street Cleaning Fairies rope off Lowell Street on the first and third Thursday of each month. Hopefully I won't have too far to go.