STRANGER THAN FICTION: 25TH IS LANDMARK BIRTHDAY

It's funny, really.

I'll turn 25 tomorrow. That's a quarter of a century.

Sure, everyone over 25 is saying, "That's no big deal. Just wait until you're (insert age here). THEN you'll know what feeling old is about."

It's not so much that I feel old, just surprised.

At age 5, it never seemed I'd make it to double digits. Then it never seemed I'd make it to my teens. Then I'd never be 21 and legal.

But I made it through all of that. I can drive, drink, get married without my parents' signature, vote and run for the House of Representatives.

Of course, I haven't accomplished all of those things, yet.

But we didn't come together today to talk about me. We came together to talk about my car, and the incident that will make my turning 25 all the more memorable.

Just over a week ago, some friends from work invited me to a local adult beverage establishment. I drove and took Betty with me.

The place was packed, so I had to park on the street quite a distance away. "Right here," Betty said, motioning to an empty spot. It looked good to me, so I pulled my dear, paid-off 1989 Toyota Corolla into the spot.

Yes, the car was American made.

The establishment was hopping. Since I was driving, I let Betty do most of the drinking and just entertained myself debating my boss about his blatant Rush Limbaugh-like conservative outlooks.

In retrospect, I wish I would have gotten plowed.

Betty, my boss and I walked out and decided to go to a private party at a friend's house. I couldn't help but notice the flashing red and blue lights in the vicinity of my car.

"You know, those lights seem to be very close to where I parked," I commented.

"Awww, they probably just pulled over a drunk driver," my boss said.

"Yeah," I said.

We loaded up into his van and headed towards the surprise of my month.

Attached to the front of my car was a four-wheel drive truck. And, whereas my car had been on the street, it was now up on the curb. And, whereas my car originally had glass in the front and rear window areas, it no longer did.

I guess the look on my face tipped the officers off as to whose car it was.

Ends up a drunk driver had hit the side of my Toyota going about 40 miles per hour, never even hitting his brakes. His head hit the windshield, but he was still conscious enough to (a) lock the doors of his truck, and (b) flee the scene on foot. Nobody knew if he had insurance, but his truck was a piece of trash. I had my doubts.

My boss whipped out a harmonica and started playing the blues. I'm not kidding.

Everyone with me was just great. A photographer friend of mine happened by and took pictures. He started out with the plain insurance-type photos, but his news instincts later took over, so he has some of me gnashing my teeth, some of the tow truck man spitting tobacco as he explains my car is totalled and some of my beloved vehicle rolling off into the sunrise.

The Roommate had a profound statement about the whole thing, as usual.

"Funny how $20 worth of booze can cause $6,000 worth of destruction," It said.

Ends up the truck's owner was arrested for driving while intoxicated. He had insurance, which I found out many restless hours after the accident.

Yesterday, his insurance company called to say my car was a total loss, and I should get any personal belongings out of it. So I did.

In 90,000 miles, that car never had a mechanical problem. Not one. When my great-uncle Pete died, he left me the money for that car, so it was paid off. To buy anything comparable, I'll have to have a car payment.

That $20 worth of booze caused a lot more than $6,000 worth of loss. Thanks a lot, buddy.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.