Based on any reasonable accounting method, I am what you would call a good driver. In fact, according to public records, I am not just good -- I am awesome! Check the Carfax of my last five chariots, and you will find nary a blemish on my record. In 34 years of navigating my way from here to there and back, I have been in just one moving collision, involving a time-pressed commuter who, believing the hype about the shortest distance between two points, decided to pass me by driving over me. Here's the thing, though. I am not really what you would call a terrific driver, at least not judging by the countless inanimate objects I have killed over the years. I have sideswiped gas pumps, taken out parked cars, and backed through the garage door (twice). I have nailed the curbside cars of my own children while coming and going so many times that my headshot is framed in the lobby of the auto body shop. Once, I even ran over my own purse. (I'll leave you to visualize the events ...
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