I almost have to laugh now that I look at this picture. Yesterday it was such a big deal. I was shaking, I was nauseous, I didn’t even want to look at my car for fear that it was worse than I originally thought. Eh, It’s just a flesh wound.
It was probably my fault, but I’d like to at least share the blame with the girl who came zooming over the hill to pass me on the right as I was changing lanes. No one was hurt, thankfully. Neither car was badly damaged, the cops weren’t called, we smiled weakly at each other and parted ways. I still feel terrible.
After I took this picture, I rubbed the yellow smudges with my finger and they came right off. My little car will be fine. The headlight didn’t break, the airbag didn’t deploy, no one was hurt. My heart broke a little, my confidence definitely dipped, and now I feel like people in cars are darting all over and about to hit me. I feel like they’re judging me and my scuffed bumper. The lady who can’t drive. The lady who hits things with her car. I wish there was a subway system in Connecticut.