Loose Ends
The big bang
Susan Nienow

Nothing reduces an event to its very bones like a traffic accident. A fender bender, really. Does it matter that I had a perfect driving record? Or that traffic was a mess with lanes closed and a bus that took up more than its fair share of road space? And people everywhere?

Never mind that I had been having a great day. Or that the other guy was just minding his own business. In the end, it is just the facts. He was in front of me. He stopped. I didn't. Oops. And in case he needed a witness, there was a police car behind me. Yeah, really.

Now we deal with the scratches and missing trim. An estimate. Sounds simple. But I have to leave my car at the shop. My other half and I need to plan if we are only going to have one vehicle. I don't drive his truck. Ever. So he'll be the chauffeur. He doesn't realize how busy I am. He wanted a three-day window for this. Not possible. I never stay home for three days in a row.

All this brings back a faint memory of a similar skid and hit that I had before we were married. I was on my way to pick up my intended to drive to my parents' house. It was pouring buckets. The car in front of me stopped, and I didn't. In this case I hit the brakes and floated into him. Sound familiar? It isn't really a habit of mine. Thirty-some years separated these two mishaps.

But the most memorable fender bender in my driving career took place in my own culde sac. Doesn't everyone have a memorable fender bender? It was a sunny day in May when I was backing out of our driveway. Both kids were strapped in their seats, and they were yelling. Maybe they were just talking, but I had the radio on and the windows were up. That means it must have been a cold month, not May.

Some of the details may be a little fuzzy because the other driver and I decided not to notify the police. So the little points of this mishap have never been written down. Anyway, the windows were up, and it was loud in the car. I didn't hear the other driver honking from the cul-de-sac. I was looking behind me to back out and didn't see any other cars. Then "Bang!"

The kids got quiet and then one of them said, "It's Daddy." Oops. I took out both of our cars with one accident. He was honking, not believing I wouldn't stop. I was backing out, looking over one shoulder, listening to two kids and the radio.

I am convinced that we are still married because he didn't say a word when he got out of his car. My other half said he was speechless. For obvious reasons this has not become a favorite family story.