While in my car stopped at a red-light last Friday afternoon I felt a hard bump and heard a crunch. I looked in my rear view mirror to see a burgundy hood of a SUV and not much else. I watched the SUV slowly reverse and back it’s grill out of my bumper as I listened to the snap, crackle, pop of our two vehicles becoming unattached.
Initially I was just a little annoyed but assumed the damage was minimal since the hit was not hard. This exact time of the year several years ago I was stopped in heavy traffic on the highway when I became the end-game of a high speed rear-ending chain reaction. Now, THAT hurt. I had seat belt burn and sore muscles for days and my car was in the shop for the better part of two months being repaired. Experience told me this hit was no big deal but regardless, needed to be checked out. At that point I had no way of knowing if the car that hit me did so because it also had been hit from behind or if the driver just wasn’t paying attention. My expectation was that all involved would pull over, assess damage and do whatever needed to be done. I assumed my part of that would be done in less than a minute and I’d be on my way. So, as soon as the light turned green and I was able to get out of the flow of traffic, I pulled over. I sat and watched as the pretty blond operator of the offending SUV, which I could now identify as a Lexus, smiled and waved as she drove . . .on . . .by. That’s the exact moment my bitch-switch got flipped.
My initial annoyance turned into a measurable amount of resentment as I had to wait for many vehicles to clear the path before I could re-enter the roadway. Fortunately, burgundy-colored Lexus SUVs are not that common so I quickly found the one I was looking for and started my chase. (I say “chase” because I was following with intent but it was more like one of those OJ Simpson/LAPD type of pursuit – the only thing going at high speed was my vexation and blood pressure.) After a few flashes of my headlights and toots of my horn the SUV finally pulled onto a side street and stopped. I pulled behind it, parked and put on my hazard lights. I exited my vehicle and went to the rear of my car to look for damage. I opened and shut the trunk a couple times to make sure it worked properly, which it did. Other than a noticeable area of missing paint (probably still stuck to the front of the Lexus) nothing was damaged – aside from my mood.
As I was at the end of my assessment, I heard the door of the Lexus open and shut so I walked back toward the SUV to confront the hit-and-run weasel. The first thing I noticed was that I was wrong about the hair color; it was not blond, it was white. The lady in front of me was very fashionably well put together (as I would expect from someone driving a $45,000 luxury SUV) but all of 5 feet 2 inches tall, 99 lbs. and I’m sure she had been old enough to drive since Annette Funicello was a member of the Mickey Mouse Club.
Nervously smiling she said “I didn’t see any damage. I didn’t think I had to stop.” Then she went into some convoluted rambling excuse mentioning she didn’t realize her car was “in drive” yadda yadda yadda. At which point she started sounding like the teacher in a Charlie Brown cartoon. All I could hear were my own thoughts saying "What the hell is this?? No no no, Sophia from Golden Girls did NOT just perform a vehicular drive-by assault on me and is now trying to say she didn't know she needed to stop??!! At her age? What is wrong with this chick? Is this some YouTuber prank? Surely, I’m being punked" Eventually I shook off my astonished, gaped-mouth expression and, as politely as if I was speaking to my own grandma, chided her for not pulling over in the first place then thanked her for “finally” stopping. She profusely apologized and thanked me and I went on my way.
It didn’t take long for the 'should've, would've, could've', what ifs and regrets to start. I could’ve been harsher – she deserved it. I would’ve gotten her licenses plate # - IF I’d been thinking straight. I should’ve called the police to at least report the incident even if I had no damage – next person she hits might not get so lucky. What if the whole scared, confused granny bit was a ruse? Her attire was Vogue-ready. Maybe she was really a deceitful, aged, spoiled trophy wife who used manipulation to get what she wanted – rich husband, luxury car, stylish duds and me copping out (pun intended) her law-breaking ways.
Sweet, harmless little ol’ granny who made a mistake or insidious, geriatric ex-vixen; what are the odds? Yep, the regrets are there but what’s done is done. Best scenario would be for one of her family members to observe the bright red paint chips embedded in the front of her up-scale, four-thousand pound, plowing machine and decide that for Christmas they should take her keys and give her a gift certificate . . . . for Uber.
Original write date: December 2018
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