A note from my extremely kind next-door-neighbor regarding the car I rented over the holidays:
Hi,
I don’t know if the police left you a card or case number re: vehicle damage. My wife and I were just coming in from dog walking. An SUV MN license place <redacted> backed into your car (about 7:30 pm Tues.). The guy driving hesitated for a moment then started to drive away. He definitely knew he had hit your car. When he saw me looking at his plate # he made a little intimidating move — driving toward me. Stupid. I called 911, the police came out and talked to us (both of us witnessed it happen), I assume they filed a report.
Let us know if you need anything from us.
Lee
So, granted, I have worse luck with cars than most. One Christmas I burned out the clutch on a borrowed car two minutes after picking it up, and another time a car’s headlight leapt out of its socket rather than be associated with me. And when I did own a car full-time it was run into (while parked) on a nearly weekly basis.
But, come on! This guy didn’t just hit-and-run my Mazda 3; he threatened to run over my neighbor. This perfectly sums up my feeling about driving. It’s interesting, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes necessary. Pretty much like shooting a rifle. Any random commuter is just as armed and dangerous as a yokel packing heat; the cyclists and pedestrians of the world live in fear of setting them off. I’m sure that when I drive I am just as dangerous, and just as much of a powder-keg, which is why I like to spend a minimum of time behind the wheel.