Things Happen....

I'm the one who does the weekly shopping. At a cut-rate supermarket. Where I do my own packing, into the black plastic bins I'd bought there when they originally opened, about ten years earlier. Their prices really are more competitive than the name-brand supermarkets, although it's caveat emptor with regard to the fruits and vegetables; everything must be carefully scrutinized for freshness, sometimes lacking.

It's not a very large store, but it sells the basic food commodities I look for. We don't use very much in the way of processed foods. There's a large ethnic and immigrant contingent shopping there as well, gravitating to where their necessities of life can be had at a more affordable price. Which is also why the store has an interesting array of products, including vegetables, I'm not too familiar with.

I've bought halal chicken there from time to time, with the understanding that it's not all that different from kosher. The store tries to serve its customers well, since they're in business for the primary purpose of pleasing customers and making a profit thereby. But it doesn't resemble the sleek and shiny and well organized large supermarkets, and many people wouldn't appreciate the environment.

Including my husband. So occasionally he goes off on his own for a shopping expedition of his own, to look about for items I'm not able to get at the store I shop at alone. Like speciality cheeses, certain cuts of meat - although we don't eat much red meat - and other items that appeal to him. That's what he did today, while I was busy in the house. Off he went to pick up a few things.

An hour later he called to let me know he'd been broadsided while he was driving in the parking lot of one of the large supermarkets he often goes to. He called not from his cell phone but from a nearby garage. We seldom use the cell phone and keep forgetting to power up its batteries.

He was headed to the nearest police station, he said, to file a report. The police won't send anyone out when an accident occurs on private property - in this instance a parking lot - if the cars are still operable; they encourage the drivers to come to them. So, after another hour he finally returned, in anything but a foul temper, to explain to me what had occurred.

It's a huge parking lot, in an area that houses many large box stores. The parking lot nearest the store was packed with cars, but the furthest quadrant was empty of cars. He drove toward an area closest to the store he frequents, intending to park there. From the corner of his eye he saw another car, moving as slowly as he, but toward him.

The driver appeared not to be looking straight ahead, but rather off to one side. And she continued to look off to the side, never looking in front of her, where she was heading. My husband kept thinking she'd look ahead and see him, but she never did and he didn't take evasive action, utterly certain she would turn to look before her, swerve into her proper space, but that didn't happen.

She plowed into the door of his back passenger seat, and his wheel well. He was shocked, and obviously so was the other driver. She emerged from her small Toyota, dreadfully upset, weeping, repeating how sorry she was, she'd never had an accident previously. She was, he said, about in her mid-thirties and distraught. He comforted her, said they were fortunate they were both driving slowly.

And not to worry, that's what insurance is for, after all. He refrained from saying anything like 'why weren't you looking where you were driving?'. When she calmed down somewhat he told her his cell phone was dead and he was going to go over to the service station just opposite to make a call to the police from there.

While he did that, she pulled out her own cell phone and made a call to a friend. She had told my husband she was there to meet a friend. When my husband returned from his telephone call with the police, there was the friend, having arrived for their assignation, and the young woman who had driven into him was now cool and distant.

It was obvious to him that her friend had cautioned her not to admit to fault, despite she had done just that, repeatedly. The friend kept eyeing him with an obviously hostile attitude. They each got into their vehicles, drove the short distance to the police station, where they made their depositions to the officer in charge.

Who filled out the official accident report form, after speaking with them. At no time was it evident from anything anyone said that there had been no witnesses; both the young woman and my husband were alone in their cars; the accompanying friend left the impression that she had been a witness.

When the two young women left the station my husband informed the police officer that the second woman had come along after the accident had occurred. When the police officer went outside the station to view the cars involved in the accident, it was clear the little Toyota had not suffered any damage, just a dent in the bumper.

My husband's car, a Honda Civic, had borne the brunt of the side-swipe, so it was evident what had occurred. Both were advised by the police officer that on the evidence she was reporting that the young woman was the striker, placing the insurance onus on her.

During the brief interview in the police station, the young woman, at the insistence of her friend, had attempted to explain that the accident was not entirely her fault. And that may also be the conclusion of the insurance adjusters. Her former warmth toward my husband in response to his obvious concern for her distress had dissipated with her friend's presence.

But when their business at the police station had been concluded and each prepared to go their way, the young woman made an effort and approached my husband. Again, she apologized for her lack of attention and having causing the accident. She said she hoped that the incident hadn't entirely spoiled his holiday week-end.

He responded by telling her once again that it was an accident, accidents happen, and she should feel less distressed over it. He wished her well, and they parted.