The Laws Of Physics Vs. The Laws Of Men

This story takes place in the early 1990s. I’m a young, single female (this is relevant) driving my brand-new (cheapo cheapo base model) Responsible Adult Sedan.

I’m at a stop sign at a T-intersection, looking for a gap in traffic on the cross street, when I’m rather surprisingly rear-ended by a large utility truck.

We were at the bottom of a hill. The truck driver realized that his brakes were no longer participants in the experience and, to his considerable credit, managed to steer toward the curbside of the road. This accomplished two things: (1) it prevented him from reducing my compact sedan to a geological layer, and (2) it kept us both from careening into oncoming traffic. The truck ultimately came to rest alongside and slightly in front of my car. Remember that detail.

This left me uninjured, but the rear corner of my car smashed and the side of my car torn open as if someone had taken an industrial can opener to it.

Officer #1 arrived, surveyed the scene with the truck slightly in front of my split-like-a-hot-dog-bun car, looked at me, the Woman Driver, and asked, “So, he was stopped, and you ran into him?” Truck Guy immediately corrected the record and explained what had actually happened.

Officer #2 arrived, examined the exact same evidence, and arrived at the exact same bat-s*** conclusion: the truck had been stationary, and I had somehow driven into it.

As far as I could tell, their working theory was that I had hit the utility truck from a sufficiently creative angle as to crush the rear of my car and slice open the side. Obviously. Because Woman Driver.

Once again, Truck Guy explained reality and, I suppose, physics.

Eventually we got through the insurance information exchange, statements, paperwork, and all the other rituals associated with an accident.

I got home and called my insurance agent. After gathering the basics, he said, “Why don’t you sit back, have a glass of wine, and have your husband call us with the rest of the details later?”

My husband.

The husband I did not have, and even if I did, was not a witness to the accident.

As the old Virginia Slims ads used to say: “You’ve come a long way, baby.”