Will this buff out?

Insurance Co. says, “Not on our nickel. Let’s just buy it from you. Leave the keys in it, our man will be by in a couple days to haul it away.”
 
The car still works fine, only lacking a turn signal, mirror on that side, little rumples along the right hood and fender, and mis-aligned head light. Oh, and a loose piece of under-the-bumper plastic that starts to scrape on the road after awhile and makes an awful sound. Really can’t drive with the reduced visibility of the windshield, however. Shattered but not punctured with the Post bent just enough, it would be really hard to pop in a new windshield.

This half-grown calf reared up out of the darkness 5:15 in the morning commute. In spite of smoking-tire-slowdown I still slid under his left hindquarter and completely ruined the bones in his lower leg.
 
At first I didn't realize that the poor animal's mommy was on the other side of the road calling him, so I was unprepared for him to get up and try to cross back over the highway. He had lain down by the guard rail, and I thought he was going to stay put. Pushing and coaxing, I was unsuccessful in turning him, so he limped across the other lane of traffic. I thought he was going to make it across, since nearest oncoming car was a ways away and slowing down, seeing our blinkers on. Unfortunately, his comment later was he was a little too distracted on checking out our flashers on the other side of the road.
 
I had to move off the highway not knowing which way this guy was going to swerve, when he finally noticed the beast, which he did not do in time. So he slammed right into him broadside enough to mess up his grill and radiator.
 
The worst accident was the one that didn't happen. While I'm standing, also in dark clothes, by the downed cow, now still partway in the northbound lane, so somebody else doesn't hit him, a couple of cars had stacked up waiting for some southbound traffic to go by. Another approaching car wasn't paying attention and didn't see the traffic stopped in front of him, and just barely skidded around them on to the shoulder, just missing rear-ending the stopped lane of cars.
 
After 3 blinking-light cruisers got parked on that side of the road, things settled down, Mrs. Roherer came out in her nightgown and called out their employees to dispatch and butcher the cow. Hadn't had the privilege of meeting her before, though I know Mr. Roherer, since he owns the Gaston Feed store and was the driving force in years past of some Fiddle Contests our boys played in in Gaston. It was kind of like a small wake-up party among some Christian friends, there in the dawn.
 
Dave was deep-sea fishing over at the Coast (on cell call says, “something like this always happens if he tries to get away) and was very gracious about the whole affair.  Apparently, this was every farmer's nightmare, finding his livestock out in the road. My friends from the store were repairing the fence the night before and they reflected that this beast might have been hiding in the bushes when they thought they had herded everybody else back in before they tightened up the fence. Dave later said, it was a tough old steer. In spite of being hit twice, once full on, he said hardly any meat was bruised/ruined.  He thought he actually walked through an unfenced big culvert under the highway which opportuned his Freedom. So glad no one else was materially hurt in the creation of this story.  

Eventually cow gets up and hobbles off the side, and I’m trying to keep him from getting too far down in the ditch, because when the Relief Team comes, I know they won’t be happy about trying to haul him back up the hill to load him up. But got busy with Law Enforcement, and he ended up further down in the grass, finally laid down.

Then you should have seen the Old Farmer-friend-of-the-feed-store-guys who came out of his pickup. He was complete with 10-gallon hat, boots, and tiny 2.5” barrel .22 revolver. Our young friends had to help him hobble down the steep embankment as he was pretty unsteady on his feet and fell down a couple of times, waving his revolver safely out of the way. Finally got down to the cow and fumbled with loading the chamber (from what I could see), and then began what appeared to be a Russian-Roulette routine. He would look at the revolver, rotate the chambers, aim at the calf’s head and grimace, pull the trigger – “click”; look at the revolver, rotate the chambers, aim at the calf’s head and grimace, pull the trigger – “click”;, over and over. It seemed like more than 5 times to me. Finally a “snap” and the cow grimaced this time, and I think he managed to fire a couple more times, not sure. I was needing to get on to work about then.

Probably not a car on the highway that whole day worth less than my little Nissan Sentra at 270,000 miles, bald tires, only gears: first, second, and fourth works on my 5-speed transmission (which has been growling for the last 50k miles), and droopy doors (at least the one that still opens) I have to lift up with the seat belt to close the door. Sweet running little 35mpg car and I will miss it. Only a couple big maintenance bills in the last 120,000 miles. Now I have to fix up my son's red '91 classic little square-back Honda Civic and try not to get too many tickets (Cops like red cars) or get it stolen, like my son suffered (thieves like this model of Civic). Insurance payout should cover the timing-belt and front axles that need replacing. BlueBook was about $500, Repairs estimated out at $2,500. They sent me a check for $1,000 plus enough to pay for an 1878 Morgan Silver Dollar to give Farmer Dave out of appreciation for his involuntary participation in helping me stop procrastinating about selling my old care and fixing up Joseph’s old Civic. He likes the old silver dollars. So this insurance check looks like it is going to cover getting the ’91 Honda tuned up and new axles and I am happily, graciously, and miraculously commuting in style again, thanks to Tim Roach’s car-gift that keeps on giving.

 
It is actually a much longer story that started back in 1977 college days. I was kind of between things and didn't need my '67 VW Fastback at the moment. A family friend/missionary to Morocco had advertised a need for a car to get around to carry the Gospel to Muslims in that area. So I sold mine and sent him the money, thinking, God will provide any time I need another car (this was not good theology). And we have certainly been well provided for down through the last 38 years. That was right before I met my wife, but there were some pretty amazing provisions among the ordinary ones.
 
Seems like there was the borrowed-from-work '67 VW Bus our second son was almost born in, speeding down McGlaughlin Blvd to the Birth Center. We had tried to go camping, but our only car was a pinto fastback. We were so poor at the time, my boss just trimmed my paycheck for awhile to pay for it. That good engine got cannibalized into another VW Bus with a better body, that a friend from work just gave me after his engine and/or transmission died. Then there was the little 510 Datsun Wagon which a friend sold me for $35. It would mysteriously just quite running for no reason. One day I spotted a spark in the wiring that led to replace a simple part and it ran fine ever after. Nice little car.

When the 5th one came along, we had run out of seats, so we bought yet another VW bus from a longtime friend. Engine was rebuilt, and strong, but got cantankerous when you pushed it too hard. But, it had the extra seats we needed, and a Rack to Die For. It didn’t like to start when it was warm, either, so we had some good times driving around the supermarket parking
 
One huge grace was the Big Brown Ford Full Size van we needed so badly, having run out of seat belts on the last VW bus. We found a likely van that would hold us, but had no finances for us. That was when my wife's stepmother took her down to the bank and brought out $1,000 of some inheritance money they didn't need and said, "Get a decent car YOU can drive". (Pam had never managed the clutch on the VW's.)
 
That survived for years until business prospered us to step up to a full size 1-Ton Chevy van that could haul all 8 of us and all our beach gear for a week. But I ran out of work as my son took over the publishing business and, to keep me out of mischief I had to go and find a "real" job. Lacking that second vehicle, a very gracious friend gave me a '93 Taurus so I could commute for job-seeking and work. It was a model with a tremendous service record and had been well-maintained before I received it. I actually ended up commuting an hour and 15 minutes to his business on the Oregon Coast and helping him with electronic work for 6 months. Just shy of 300,000 miles the transmission and heater core all went out at once, but not before someone pulled out in front of me and we brushed each other. The ins co regarded my scrape along my door as more important than the little piece of broken plastic on the grill of his big truck/pickup. The Insurance payout for that totaled car, plus what the junkyard gave me by-the-pound became a substantial part of the purchase-price of my late 93 Sentra that is on it's way to the same fate.
 
As before when the car was totaled, both me and the car are relative unhurt, and I get paid more than the car was worth before the 'bump'.
 
My friend's original gift just keeps on giving. This time I just needed a little help to fix up a '91 red Civic I got from my son.
 
Thanks, cow. Thank you, Mr. Roach