There was a serious traffic accident up on a nearby corner this morning which I did not witness but heard about. I got to thinking how lucky I am not to have been involved in any serious automobile collisions, and that reminded me of one particular mishap to which I was a party -- not a car crash, just a car bump.
While backing out of a space in the parking lot of the apartment building where I lived, I came into contact with the left front bumper of a big old Buick in the row behind me. I remember having been in a hurry, so I might not have been watching as carefully, but the real cause was that this old car was parked all crooked with its left front sticking out about three feet. One could easily surmise that whoever put it there had come home drunk.
My car wasn't hurt at all, but there was a lot of damage on the Buick. There were bumps and scrapes and scratches galore, and the front fender -- on the side I hit -- was crumpled. This could not possibly have resulted from my little tap at 1.38 miles per hour, and even if I had caused any damage, it would have been indistinguishable from all the rest.
I was tempted just to drive off, but there were a lot of windows in those apartments which might very well have had a lot of people looking out of them, so I decided the right thing to do was to leave a note. I know better than to sign a piece of paper that says, "I hit your car," so I simply wrote, "Call me about your car," and left my name and phone number.
When I returned home several hours later, I saw that the old Buick had been moved -- it was neatly tucked back into its space, perfectly between the lines.
And the owner never did call me.
No comments:
Post a Comment