Here's what happened. I was out in the country just cruising along the main highway. I had cruise control set at a hundred and I was just sitting back relaxing, enjoying the scenery.
A little way off I could see where another road joined the highway. I thought it was fairly safe to assume that it was an unmade road as I could see a plume of dust rising from where someone was coming along it in my general direction.
I didn't give a thought of any possible danger. I'd noted the traffic, I knew that I had right of way, I knew that there'd also be a stop sign on the dirt road. I'd be long past before whoever it was made their turn onto the main road.
Silly me. I tend to forget that there are idiots out there and that most of them drive.
As I approached the intersection this little red coupe came blasting out of the side road. Forget about observing the stop sign. This character didn't even slow down, just taking the corner at full bore and then fish-tailing all over the road as he tried to straighten up.
I'd recently had my pickup serviced and had had a full brake overhaul at the same time, so when I stood on my brakes I really came to a halt.
Still not fast enough it turned out. I managed to stop before ramming the bloody idiot but he managed to collect me when his fish-tail blasted back across the road and swiped along my bull-bar.
I was already stopped and I just waited for the coupe to pullover so we could discuss the incident. I doubted that there was any damage to my pickup but someone else was now driving without a rear bumper.
I hopped out and wandered around to check the bull-bar and it seemed fine to me. Some red paint on it but that didn't matter. I turned to see what the idiot in the coupe thought of the damage to his car.
Ay, caramba! and other expression of surprise and sincere admiration.
The idiot was female and what a female. Blonde and the sort of figure to set any man's blood to boil on sight. And she definitely knew what she had and how to present it. Tight little shorts and a tight little top, both looking as though they were painted on. One glance and I knew all her vital statistics, and they were truly vital.
I smiled as she came over, quite ready to forgive her atrocious driving. Hell, I hadn't been damaged and her insurance would cover her own damage. I was all for forgiving and forgetting and exchanging names and phone numbers.
Blondie came bouncing up to me, smiling.
"You blithering moron," she shrieked. "Now look what you've done. What sort of idiot driver are you? Road hogs like you don't deserve a license. Look what you've done to my car."
Not quite the apology I expected but I kept my calm.
"Excuse me," I murmured politely, "but you failed to stop at the intersection, you turned the corner at an excessive speed, you lost control and fish-tailed your car and I was actually stationary when your car hit mine. When you consider this I think you'll have to agree that you were at fault, not me."
"Me!" Blondie was practically dancing with rage.
"Only a male chauvinist would say something like that. I was on the main road and you rear-ended me. Look at the damage. It speaks for itself. It's obviously your fault. And you'd better be insured because I'll be claiming against it."
I shrugged and produced my card, scribbling the extra details on the back of it. Then I asked for her details. I didn't need them, she pointed out. Even a moron like me could see that my road-hogging gas-guzzling monstrosity was undamaged.
I was starting to get a little irritated with Blondie. I didn't think for one minute that she didn't know it was her fault, but there was no way she was going to admit it. I was also getting tired of the abuse for an accident that wasn't my fault.
Restraining my temper I pointed out that she had my details and that she was legally required to give me hers. To emphasis the point I kicked over the bumper bar lying on the road and took down the registration number.
"And how am I supposed to drive with the car looking like this?" Blondie demanded, still not giving me her details.
"The same as before," I told her. "Badly. Just toss the bumper bar into the car and maybe the garage can glue it back on. Details, please."
I don't know how long this would have gone on but I caught a lucky break. A police car rolled up and pulled over and the cop got out.
"Afternoon, officer," I said, as he approached. "Can you tell the little lady that she is required to give me her details? She has mine."
"He's right, Cindy," the cop said. "Give him your details and then we can discuss what happened."
Muttering to herself, Cindy wrote down her details and handed them to me. Then she turned to the cop.
"It's obvious what happened," she practically snarled at him. "I was driving along minding my own business and this moron rear-ended me. Then he had the gall to say it was my fault. You can see I was hit from behind."
The cop turned to me and I explained what had happened. Cindy promptly accused me of lying.
The cop finally shrugged.
"So far it's just your word against hers," he pointed out, "and the damage is to her rear-end. Any sort of proof about how it happened."
"If you look at her car you'll see it's covered in dust from that side-road," I pointed out.
Blondie was fast on the uptake, I'll give her that much.
"I never said that I didn't come out of the side-road," she snapped. "If you hadn't been speeding there'd have been no problem."
"In addition," I continued, "I have a dash-cam that will show exactly what happened and it will also show my speed as I approached the intersection. Would you care to review it?"
