On my way to work, as I took a turn, a car came and banged into mine from the back. It was a lady trying to beat me to the turn. I heard a loud thump and a sickening scrape of metal. The lady driving looked at me blankly and then sped off ahead. Enraged, and not in the mood to be spending money un-denting my car (again), I took off after her. She knew what I was doing because she was trying everything to dodge me.
After much negotiating of traffic and surly expressions, I finally caught up with her at a red light. Jumping out of my car I ran up to her window, all set to make her pay for her bad driving skills. She rolled down the window with the same blank expression, and then proceeded to act like she had no idea about what had happened. Had she hit my car? Really? But when?
I wasn’t buying it. I told her everything that was wrong with her driving, and was in the middle of explaining how difficult it is to keep getting my car fixed when she started crying. Big, loud, teary crying. The traffic started moving around us. I wanted to hurry things up, but the way in which she was howling made me feel bad. Maybe she was a new driver? Maybe she was going through a bad patch? Crap. Why did she start crying? I decided that I would try and be more compassionate, and just let it go. I told her to be more careful, and that I didn’t want any money. I just wanted her to be more aware of the other cars on the road. She nodded, and apologized.
I got back into my car and drove to work, feeling very sorry for myself. Upon reaching, the first thing I did was check the damage. No dent or scratch. Nothing? I looked again. Not a scratch. I guess the powers-that-be were encouraging my efforts at being a better person. Thank you, thank you, thank you.