Last summer I was involved in a minor car accident. A fender-bender. But, it was my first of any kind (if you don't count the time Katie backed into me in the driveway) and it shook me up.
Allow me to illustrate:
Here's the scenario. Wait...maybe I should highlight all the players.
Does that help?
So here I am, driving down the street and through the intersection at which I have no stop sign. Ms. Red Car does. I am minding my own business. Singing with Gloria Estefan when I notice Red Car start to make a slow left turn. I assume she is going to pull in behind me.
I exaggerate. It was more like a "blurp" or a "harunk." Nevertheless, there was contact, of what magnitude I had no idea at this point. So I pull over. She does, too. And then she sits in her car with "what the crunck?" hands up. I think to myself, incredulously, "does she think this was my fault??"
I get out of my car as a good samaritan passes by, window down, and yells, "thanks for stopping IN the road!"Definitely a shortage of these fine individuals here in upstate New York.
She gets out of her car and surveys the damage done to her grandmother's Jetta.
The side of the bumper popped off and there were scratches. I surveyed the damage done to my car. Nothin'. We call the cops anyway. In the meantime, she gets on the phone with her dad.
She spends the next 15 minutes trying to explain to Officer Lindsey how the accident was my fault. She made diagrams using sidewalk lines and sticks. She used passing cars as examples of our accident. She even presented my "sorry, if I had seen you there I would have let you in" as admission of guilt.
He finally told her she was wrong. He popped her bumper back in place and we all went on our way. I find out later she is friends with my sister. Red Car is still convinced of her innocence.
The moral of this story is that there are some real space cadets out there, and someone is letting them get behind the wheel. Watch yourself.