In my defence, I was somewhat preoccupied with a perplexing new development. I mulled it over all weekend, only popping my head outside on Sunday afternoon to catch the dying gasps of fall. It was one of those staggeringly beautiful weekends that, if you miss them, you’re required to commit suicide. You just missed something that nice. So I had to.

Anyhow, it was a stark contrast to the development I mentioned, which has to do with my ex-wife and my ex-car. Okay, I know, it sounds whiny already, but I promise to keep that to a minimum. And the story gets a little unusual.

I figured I wouldn’t need the car while living downtown, so I let the ex drive it until the lease expired. I’ve been described both as a nice guy and a sucker. I’d probably stick myself somewhere in between. Besides, it shouldn’t have been a problem; car’s in my name and my folks guaranteed the lease. Whatever I chose to do at the end of it (this month), would’ve been to my advantage. Karma returning a favour, I thought.

Yeah, no.

Seems the dealership allowed my ex-wife to return the car without consent from anyone actually on the lease (I don’t think her name is anywhere on there). They didn’t even try to get in touch with anyone on the contract to verify if, you know, it was okay. I’m not saying I might not have made the same choice, but I would’ve liked to have been able to make that choice. I might’ve chosen to sell my lease … actually made some money instead of nothing. Instead, now I have no money and no car. Like a common beggar.

To add an extra wallop to this, they claim the car incurred substantial damages to the tune of four-thousand dollars. Yikes! The ex made a couple of contradictory claims about this amount so I’ll have to go on hard facts alone. The dealership’s damage report is coming (I’ve been promised), but verifying it may be made more difficult by the fact that the car is apparently now up for auction and may not even be around anymore. Yikes!

And this was the first I’d heard of it.

Yikes!

I think it would be prudent to seek some legal representation, or at least talk to someone with a degree. I mean, this just doesn’t seem right, does it?

By the way, how’re these photos working for you? Obviously they were taken on Sunday. I’d stopped screaming and punching random people by then so I quite managed to enjoy the outing. It was just a quick jaunt down Bloor Street but it was refreshing, cathartic, almost religious.

Perhaps, somewhere down the road, this affair will prove to be a blessing in disguise; the silver lining on a dark November storm cloud. Or the beginnings of a long and ruinous alcoholism.

Cool!

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