One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Miss...

   This is the amount of time I had to contemplate the fact that I was just about to slowly slide into the rear bumper of a BMW three weeks ago.
   I have relived that moment over and over and timed it all out in my mind and I believe the timing is accurate---about two and half seconds.
   I had been driving here and there that morning and really had had no problems with my stopping ability at intersections. There had been a cold snap the previous evening and I had been extra cautious but then found out that the main intersections had been well taken care of by the city work crews and traction was not particularly an issue.
   As I pulled into the left-hand turn lane in which the BMW had preceded me, though, I ran into the exact opposite of the driving conditions I had already been experiencing. Instead of wet pavement, I now found myself on a sheet of ice. I'm not sure whether the city trucks just missed salting/sanding the left hand lane or whether perhaps it was the smaller amount of traffic going through but it was a skating rink.
   In that two and a half seconds, I had no idea I was about to slide into the back of a BMW---all I knew was that I was about to negatively impact a complete stranger through my own inattention and a little bit of bad luck.

Pretty well the last thing I saw before the big crunch! (minus the green grass...)

   People's cars seem sacrosanct, sort of like holy vessels of transportation, and damaging one of them is abhorrent. I don't worry about my own so much but I hate like hell smucking up someone else's.
   When we got out to survey the damage I found myself face-to-face with a rather refined-looking woman with a British accent. She had not been injured and was not irate and we simply went about checking our vehicles.
   There was very little apparent damage and we almost just drove away from the accident scene before I noticed some broken pieces of plastic under her bumper. At this point, we opted to go through the whole police inspection/insurance procedure.
   When I actually got my car to the reporting centre, we discovered a broken grill---all the little bits of plastic I'd seen underneath her vehicle actually belonged to mine. This actually made me feel a little better.
   Later on that afternoon, I got the car into Carstar Autobody for an estimate and ended up looking at about $400 worth of damage, all of it coming out of my pocket. 
   It always feels like home when I walk into Carstar. Over the years, I've had many an occasion to stroll in. Generally, it's because someone has run into me---there have been a rash of occurrences where people have hit me while I'm stopped. I have no idea why this is but my firm belief is that, in some way, I am invisible. I discussed this in a previous post which you are welcome to view here, if you so desire.
   So the people at Carstar now greet me as family, so to speak, and I am always happy to see them. They give me back a brand-new car (at least it seems like that) and for that I am grateful. I do, however, feel a little like a bad child when the damage is my fault.