Sense of perspective is intact

It happened so fast.
I know that’s a cliché, but clichés develop because they are true.
And it’s true that it happened so fast.
We’d traveled down to Bloomington to see our old friend Walt Tabak receive the distinguished service award from the Indiana Journalism Hall of Fame. We’ve known Walt for something like 34 years, and I was one of the people who nominated him for the honor.
Walt will be 88 in August, and it was a delight to see him finally get his moment in the spotlight with his son, his daughter, his grandson and his great-granddaughter on hand to hear the accolades.
Too often, those words are left for funerals.
Walt got to bask in it all.
After the ceremonies, we stopped by to see our daughter, Sally, and her boyfriend, Ben, and took them out to dinner.
Bloomington’s full of great restaurants, so we couldn’t go wrong. We had a wonderful time at the Uptown Café, just off the courthouse square, and agreed to get together with Sally for Sunday brunch at a restaurant called Farm. Ben couldn’t make it because he’d promised his mother he’d do some yard work that day.
Then about 11:30 a.m. we set off home to Jay County.
We were northbound on Walnut Street, nearing 14th Street, when I noticed a burgundy-colored SUV to the left. It seemed to be heading into the intersection, though we had the right-of-way.
I swerved and — crunch.
It was that fast.
The SUV — a behemoth next to our car — slammed into the driver’s side door of my car, a 2005 S-Type Jaguar I bought a couple of years ago from Rock Fuqua in Dunkirk.
The Jag was, in all honesty, something of an indulgence. It was seven years old. It got very good mileage. It was a sedan and had a six-cylinder engine. And I bought it at a price that could have led me to far less glamorous manufacturers.
But it was still a Jaguar, and buying it had taxed my Scottish Calvinist soul. (Born into a Calvinist tradition, I can tell you its sense of guilt is only rivaled by Catholics and Jews.)
It seemed an extravagance, even though I could prove by the numbers that it wasn’t extravagant.
I’ve often found myself bragging about the car in one breath and poor-mouthing it as a bargain basement vehicle in the next.
None of that made any difference Sunday morning when a Nissan Pathfinder smacked into it and spun it halfway around in Bloomington.
What made a difference was that it was built well enough that neither of us had been injured. A smack to the shoulder, bits of glass everywhere, a few tiny cuts and scrapes on my part. But both of us are fine.
Today, the Jag’s in an auto body shop lot in Bloomington. Its future is a little uncertain. Two doors and the roof will need to be replaced. The frame will have to be checked out, as will the somewhat over-sensitive computer system for the electronics on board.
But that’s okay.
Those are just things. And after a weekend with old newspaper friends and our family, we’re happy to say that while the Jag may be damaged, our sense of perspective is completely intact.

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