As I
mentioned in my previous post, it seems as if bad things come in threes. I had
just been rear-ended twice in a few weeks. I was concerned about it happening a
third time soon after those two, but it didn’t happen for several years. So, I
don’t know if it can be considered part of a Bad 3 or not. I don’t really know
the rules about such things.
This time I
had just crossed Cypress Mill Road going south on Pine Street. Those of you
familiar with this location will know that there is a KFC at that corner. There
was a car in front of me that had slowed down behind another vehicle that was
turning left into an off campus book store. So, I slowed down as well. However,
the young girl driving the car behind me decided she didn’t like that idea. She
just kept on moving at full speed. Unfortunately, physics demands that two
physical objects not occupy the same space. Thus when her car attempted to
occupy the space my car was currently occupying, my vehicle accommodated it by jerking
forward. Somehow that jerk caused my foot to slip off my brake pedal and hit
the accelerator pedal. This caused my car to attempt to occupy the space held
by the car in front of me, which in turn accommodated my car by jerking
forward. Fortunately, the car in front of that car had already made its left
turn and avoided our entire physics experiment.
My son, who
was in the passenger seat asked why I had pressed the accelerator, like I had
done it on purpose. I explained that the crash had caused me to do it.
Having been a part of a three-car pileup before, I was thinking, “Oh no, here we go again.” I just hoped it wasn’t that
unknown man’s handicapped friend hitting me again. If it was I planned on writing
down his tag number before he time to sneak away like the last time.
While
sitting there in the car regaining my composure, I looked in front of me and
saw the car I had hit speeding away. I just couldn’t figure out why. The man in
the customized van had committed a hit-and-run, which is understandable given
the accident was his fault. This guy, however, was committing a be-hit-and-run.
Why would he want to leave? Apparently there was a reason he didn’t want to be
involved in a police report. Drugs in the car, perhaps? Or maybe he’d just
killed an endangered animal and it was in the backseat? Or, perhaps he was
illegally smuggling an elephant from India into the country? Who knew?
When I got
out of the car, it turned out that it was a young girl who had hit me. She was
about to have a panic attack. She kept going on and on about having just had
another accident that was her fault. She feared her insurance rates were going
to become unaffordable or the insurance company would drop her altogether. She also said something about her dad possibly killing her. Anyway, I
got the sense she wanted me to just let her go, but she never asked
directly. I guess I was supposed to be sympathetic to her plight. I was not. My
car was too damaged for empathy. I wanted it repaired.
So, as with
my other rear-endings, the police came, took our reports, and let us go on our
not-so-merry ways. My car was repaired, but I never heard what happened to the
girl. Hopefully, she didn’t end up having the third “bad things come in threes”
wreck soon afterwards.
No comments:
Post a Comment