This afternoon I had to run errands. Never my favorite activity, it has acquired a whole new dimension with the addition of D1 to the mix. Now I have to carefully time them to coincide with a time when neither food nor naps will be needed, and must transfer D1 from car seat to Snugli and back to car seat with each stop. (And for the next ten years or so this is only going to get more complicated.)
Furthermore, the courthouse (where I had to stop to vote) was parked up to the hilt. Not wanting to risk the peril of being towed by parking in the employee lot, I circled the courthouse again and again.
In despair, I at last decided to park on the opposite side of the one-way street. This meant parallel parking the opposite direction from the way I was (very inadequately) accustomed. Sure enough, as I struggled to squeeze in between the van behind and the station wagon before, I felt a far-too-familiar jerk. As I was struggling to get back out of this, the van left and I had lots of room to maneuver.
I got out and examined the bumpers. Mine was intact. The other's was decidedly caved in, yet it was a car even older than mine and the bumper looked quite solid. Could I really cause that much damage without hurting my own? I reached in my pocket for my cell phone to call DOB and ask for an opinion on what to do.
It was at this moment that I realized the comforting weight in my pocket was not my cell phone, but the camera. Alas, at that moment taking a picture would not have been particularly helpful. (A picture taken before I started parking might have helped document it, but it was too late.) And driving home to get the cell phone seemed both irresponsible and unduly time-consuming.
I did leave them a note with a phone number, so I am left with waiting and hoping either that it was an honest person whose bumper was already caved in, or a merciful person whose bumper was not yet caved in, or a forgetful person who loses the note before they call me.