Another morning spent gathering documentary evidence ... well, o.k., not for that long ... I took my car into the body shop (Service King on N. San Fernando, for anyone interested, who were wonderfully cheerful and efficient, and kept trying to press pastries and even fried potato balls from Porto's, in Glendale, on me - I think I should have a tee-shirt made saying She Resisted). The diagnosis was a little gloomy - such was the impact the other day that not just the bumper, but the whole back trunk area sustained that they thought there might be Invisible Damage, and it might take a couple of weeks to sort out. But the insurance pays for a rental car - so I was ferried off to a peculiarly inept branch of Enterprise, who seemed baffled by everyone standing around wanting to rent vehicles. They tried to give me a car for a day, saying I could come back and change it tomorrow. I demurred. So they've rented me a huge GMC Acadia, a three-row-seat behemoth, for as long as it takes. There must be things I can do with this ... I could fit a small pony in there if I put the seats down, or maybe three or four sheep. Cautiously, though (they really were inept), I took photographs of every slightest ding and dent and scratch on it. Or I tried to - all I really managed to capture was me taking these evidentiary images ...
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