She had been pulling into a parking lot, so she continued, and I pulled in as well, getting out and running over to apologize and ask if they were okay. The woman got out and started not-quite-yelling at me, saying, "Didn't you SEE me? How fast were you GOING?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, are you okay, is your car okay..."
WE rounded to the back of her car and checked it out-- a little dent in the bumper and a lot of paint from my car. "Oh, that's not too bad," she commented. "I don't think we'll even bother to get that fixed."
"There's a piece of a light over here," her daughter, who had been in the car, commented. "Well, it's not from my car," the driver replied. I then checked my car.
Unlike her large SUV, my little Contour had two broken lights and a bit of a dent in the hood on the passenger's side. "Oh, that's not too bad," I commented, in my youthful ignorance. "I can get that fixed. It's my fault, anyway."
"Okay," the woman replied, calmer now. "Hey, don't I know you?"
I paused, studying her face. "Oh, right, I think I do..."
"Yeah, from Girl Scouts? I know your mom. You bridged to Adults last year, you were the oldest girl at the ceremony. I'm D- S-."
"Oh, yeah!" I replied, remembering, thinking, Right, this is the woman that called the house like 20 times a day...
"So you're okay? I don't think I'll bother with getting my car fixed, but if my husband insists, I have your number already. WE can sort out insurance then, if need be."
I nodded, apologized again, put the pieces of the light in the seat beside me and drove home.
One call to my mother and an estimate later, I was getting a much better idea of how "not too bad" the car was- $481 bad. Turns out that the lights needed replacing, the plastic piece behind them was cracked and also needed replacing (and that one couldn't be bought at a discount like the lights), and the pressure on the hood was bad enough that it would all have to be banged out, and that was just to make it pass inspections.
I waited for my dad to get home, panicky. I expected the worst, because my dad tends to flip out when I screw up. I thought for sure I would have to pay for the damage, and get yelled at, and I couldn't think how I could afford it since they cut my hours at Discovery and I can't get cleared by a doctor to work at the daycare (stupid clinics). Thank GOD my dad understood. My folks have agreed to cover it in exchange for me being generous with chores and more careful next time.
So that was my adventure of the week...
Oh. And I love him.