If only all crashes were as romantic as the Dave Matthews song. But as all my previous car crashes go, the recent one kind of takes the cake. It’s the first time I’ve been rear-ended with damage — and there was a lot.

Let me backtrack a little. Two weeks ago, my parents bought a secondhand Honda Jazz for me to replace the Kia Sportage I’ve been driving for four years. That Sportage, which I named Tweety because of the character painted on its rear tire covering, was such a hardy little vehicle. It had a front bull bar and a rear tire so it never sustained any damage even after I backed up or bumped into anything (sometimes my fault, sometimes not, hehe).

The Jazz, which I obviously named Jazzmine, was so pretty as I drove it around during the first week I had it. It was also faster because of its gasoline engine (Tweety had a diesel engine) and could maneuver more easily in traffic or small parking spaces.

One week, almost to the day I got Jazzmine, I was driving home from a presscon on Roxas Boulevard when an SUV rammed my rear because the driver hadn’t been paying attention when I stopped to give way to a wayward jeepney. The impact not only dented the rear door and bumper, but also broke the window glass rendering Jazzmine unusable (unless I wanted to tool around with plastic wrap as a window).

The other driver’s insurance is paying for repairs, but this means that Jazzmine is at shop until those repairs are done. The other car? Just a slightly misaligned front bumper. Hay nako.

Thankfully, old faithful Tweety is still around. I really love that car.