Friday, November 03, 2006

Dear Lady Who Hit My Car This Morning,

Remember our little collision this morning? Remember when I was driving behind you down, what was it, 4th Street, just off of 8th Avenue? Remember that black Prius in front of your old station wagonish hatchback from the early 90s, a silver Subaru perhaps? That Prius who was looking for a parking spot? And it stopped and backed up so suddenly to double park that you backed up too, without looking, right into me? Remember that? And during the November 3, 2006 incident, I watched your reverse lights go on, and though my hands froze, unable to honk or reverse myself, my mind calmed, thinking, wow, this car is going to hit me. It's not going to be bad, and I won't get hurt, and neither will the five-and-a-half month-old in the back seat. But we're about to get hit. And then BAM!

Ring any bells? And you turned around in your seat, looked at me and threw a hand in the air as if to say, "What could I do? It was this bastard in front of me and we all know that!" And right after that you got out of your old car, your roughly five-foot four inch frame and medium build with dyed auburn hair in a pony tail, and you walked over to me, possibly wearing a heather gray sweatshirt and no-frills jeans and white sneakers, your brown, approximately forty-three year old eyes meeting mine and never my bumper, and asking when I rolled down my window, "Are you okay?"

And I answered, "I'm fine," and you, of possibly Eastern European or maybe Italian descent, no discernable accent, you said, "This guy in front of me backed up so fast, what an idiot!" And then as you walked over to the Prius, happily settling into its double parking spot, I muttered as quietly as humanly possible, "Could we maybe check out my bumper?"

And so I exited my vehicle and saw that the only change to my bumper was that the license plate was flat again, and so I stood by your car, waiting, witnessing you possibly blaming the Prius driver for your hitting my 1998 teal Toyota Camry at approximately 9:15 A.M., and then I retreated, as I had a feverish baby in the back seat to attend to, to take to the pediatrician, my darling who was barely awakened, thank God, by the smack of your car into mine, but then I headed back over to you, where you continued to give hell to the Prius driver, and then I retreated again, and you walked back to your car in a huff as if it had been your car that got hit, and you didn't assess any damage or offer to exchange insurance information and I sat there in my drivers' seat assuming you'd come over again so we could at least have a polite discussion as a formality, where I would tell you not to worry and slip into the conversation that we should just thank God the baby's all right, but you entered your vehicle and sped down the street in a self-righteous huff, and I sat there stunned, blindsided on the inside, in my soul. Do you remember that? Okay, just checking. Have a great weekend!


Elise Miller

1 comment:

Amelia Plum said...

that bitch! did you happen to get her license plate #? that really is rude beyond belief that she wouldn't even offer to give her insurance info or look at your bumper to ssee if there was damage, although by the sounds of it she must be a pretty damaged individual herself. even if the bumper looks okay you have every right to get that information! i'm just happy to hear that you and Frankie are okay.