No, not me. The goofball who swerved into the ditch in front of our house last night and took out the end of our little-two-brick-high wall.

It actually doesn’t bother me terribly. I have materials to repair the wall, and the guy not only lost the plastic liner to his wheel well, but, by the fact that he didn’t get stuck in the ditch, must have traveling with sufficient velocity to require, at the very least, a serious alignment.

The tow truck approaching in this picture brought a jump-start to our neighbor. I half-expected it to retreat loaded with a car whose front left wheel was hanging loose.

Anyway, in case the driver remembers the incident and returns, I left the wheel well liner there for him.

Carefully cut into five pieces.

While in Connecticut in September, I picked my brother up at the airport. Driving back, I was amazed at cars driving inside the lanes on the interstate, and signalling to change lanes. Finding myself in the midst of a fairly empty stretch, I said, “I’ll show you how we drive in Uruguay,” and started to switch lanes, but only enough to perfectly straddle the line between two.

“What the hell are you doing?” said my brother – who, for the record, is legally blind.

“Driving like an Uruguayan,” I replied.

Today, shortly after an expensive car nearly clipped my fender in the process of creating a third lane in the middle of two eastbound lanes (hey, after all, it is Friday of New Year’s Eve weekend and we’ve got to get to Punta del Este!), I saw this car with Punta plates, which apparently left the highway at significant speed to travel so far and do such damage to the entrance of a children’s recreational area.

I don’t know the details, or what other vehicles were involved, but I can say with some certainty what happened was 100% the driver’s fault.