There I was, driving along in the middle lane when, suddenly, a woman to the left of me proved several laws of physics involving the existence of two objects of the same physical mass occupying the same space. She claimed the the last time she had seen me was when I had been behind the bus. I hadn't been behind the bus since before the light. You remember, lady, that light THAT WE ALL FREAKING STOPPED AT.

I'm fine, Bean is fine, the car will be fine after a stay at the spa and the repair of the front quarter-panel, the driver's door, the rear-view mirror and a new rim.

It doesn't look that bad in the picture and, really, it's not that bad. But it's an awful lot of minor damage to an awful lot of my poor car!



The biggest pain about the whole thing is that this is the car Hubster and I were going to take on our little jaunt tomorrow. Good thing we have two more cars. (Yes, we have three cars. For two people of driving age. One is Hubster's Corvette. It doesn't really count as a car. It's more of a girlfriend.)