Last week I was at DQ with the kids, and I took note of a big concrete post behind where I had parked and told myself to be sure not to back into it when we left. Fast forward to us leaving and I’m focused on that post, and my parking assistance is beeping and I’m like, don’t worry, parking assistance, I’ve got my eye on that nasty old post. Fear not! And then I ever-so-gently back into a parked car I didn’t see at all. A lovely green convertible with two older folks in it. I step out and apologize. We assess the damage, of which I see none. But the old guy thinks he sees a little dent. We compare to the other side of the car, and he realized it was just the normal contour of his car’s body, no dent or scratch. A miracle with today’s cars. So he says, I guess we’re fine, and I walk away. Then I notice he has a Washington plate, and I say, “Hey, do you live on the Point?” (local name for our exclave). He says yes, we get to talking and it turns out he and his wife live on my street, four houses away and I’ve seen him and his cute dog many times from afar. We chat for a bit and I say if he changes his mind and sees a scratch, he now knows where to find me! And then I got in the car and drive away feeling rather lucky.
