Why are you so gorgeous, Robert Redford?

I got some disappointing news the other day. Back in April, while I was moving my mother, I got into a small accident with the rental car. Although the other car hit mine in the driver's door, I was technically at fault because I was turning into traffic and he was already in the flow of traffic. There was no damage to the other vehicle, but the cost to repair the rental car is $2600. I have a $1000 deductible. I know it could be worse.

I recall the events which led to that accident. Mom and I were planning on watching my sister's kids, Julia and Holden overnight. We wanted to get a good movie and both Mom and I thought of "The Horse Whisperer." The library had a copy, but it was checked out. Same with the Blockbuster nearby. I said, "forget it, let's think of something else," but Mom wanted to check the other Blockbuster, which was not close by. They had it, and in a rare moment of exuberant spontaneity, Mom jumped up and said, "Let's get it!" We got the movie and as I was in the process of turning right out of the driveway and into the near lane (which was clear), exactly at the same moment another vehicle changed lanes. Boom! I had one of those, "where did he come from!?" moments.

Of course I blame Robert Redford. Robert Redford, the rugged Montana cowboy in "The Horse Whisperer", is to Mom what Jackson Browne is to me. Multiplied by a million. Only one thing could summon that level of get-up-and-go in my mother, and that's Robert Redford. If he wasn't so gorgeous, Mom wouldn't have been forced to insist that we get that movie. Clearly we were both victimized.

Robert Redford, do the right thing. Have your people contact my people and let's put this thing behind us. And stop victimizing little old ladies.