Don't Drive Tired

I was in a terrible car accident yesterday. Okay, it was a minor fender-bender. We can hardly see the damage on our already dinged-up car. The woman whom I hit, on the other hand, can most definitely see the damage on her much more expensive, much fancier, much whiter SUV.

I was trying to escape for a few minutes. We had camp last week, and Edwin and I are extremely tired. While the foster kids had visitation yesterday, I was given the choice between a nap and some time to wander around a few stores.

I chose poorly.

I was pulling up to a STOP sign, and the car in front of me started to go. It's a really busy intersection, so I started looking for the next window to pull out. I wasn't very thoroughly awake at the time, so it took me far longer than it should have to realize that the car in front of me decided to not go. I was in Edwin's car, and the brakes are much looser than my own. There was no time to stop it, but I managed to make a small dent instead of a large one.

The driver was not happy at all. Unfortunately, we live in a small town, and she's a local, so several people stopped to ask her about the horrible atrocity that had just taken place. I watched her tell the story of the accident with far greater enthusiasm and plenty of gestures. I think it's easier to be stoic when you have absolutely no sentimental attachment to the car.

I must confess that I didn't even apologize. I only spoke to her for the quickest moment to let her know that I was pulling out of the way of traffic. From that point on, we remained in our corners. It had nothing to do with a lack of sorrow on my part. I was really quite thoroughly mortified, but I thought it would be best to stay out of her way.

I probably should have implemented such a strategy before I hit her car.