As I declared then, and continue to believe, I was the victim here, not the rabbit. I was merely its tool for suicide; I was traumatized emotionally AND had to deal with the damage it inflicted on my van (see my Freaky Friday post for details).
My ever-sympathetic son (I did mention that sarcasm was my love language, right?) shot the photo once we contacted my friend Kirk, who caught up and acted as my pace car for the rest of the freaky drive home. (I was actually going about 60 here, I think…)
See my “Freaky Friday” post for details!