Rear Ended
Well, yesterday out on an errand for my dear mother, I was stopped at a red light and a twit rear-ended me. Well, not that big a deal—we’ve all made our mistakes. I pull forward and to the side of the road, and he just makes some gestures at me and heads down the road. I got his license plate, then repeated it to myself over and over until I found a filling station & a pen. Called the cops, filed a report and the rest, but unfortunately it turns out that the plate I wrote down is not on file—I must have messed up the state or some of the digits. It happens.
The damage to my car is very minor; I don’t believe that I’ll bother fixing it, as it’s simply the bumper shifting inward perhaps a quarter inch, with part of the frame punched through by the same amount. On a 15 year old car, this blends in.
I have this satisfaction: he was driving a very nice car, and judging by the streaks on my bumper and the damage I saw to his own, he’ll be paying a pretty penny for it. And without a police report, odds are that his insurance company won’t be picking it up… Good riddance to bad rubbish.
