White Lightning Axiom: Redux

Okay, Im not the kind of guy to foist my opinions or beliefs on others, and I will do my best not to try to subvert the freedoms of other no matter what destructive course of action they pursue. Destructive. Or at least mildly damaging. Once the dynamic duo of coiffure were fed and shuttled off to bed, I decided to have the wild bramble perched atop my own skull knocked down a bit. There is a barber shop near the Naval Airforce Base that I like to go to. Three well aged gentlemen of Italian descent operate this establishment in the most proficient manner. Being that it is roughly 50 feet from the back entrance to the base, they specialize in the traditional 'flat top' haircut that I prefer. Sharp, efficient, no non-sense. It a bit of a drive from our place, but well worth it. They know what they are doing and I feel that my 15$ is well spent. I never have to worry that I'll end up with something that will require a hat or a second cut. And who in their right mind would want a second cut from any hack-shop when the first is so horrific that you have the audacity to complain? So I head off in the afternoon heat, windows down and wind whipping my mane about. I listen to the cooking program on NPR, something about crab cakes is being presented for my amusement. I seem to be hitting every red light on the way, but I'm in no hurry. In my rear view mirror, I see a little black car weaving in and out of traffic. This guy is in a hurry, I can hear his engine protest over the banter on the radio. He races towards me and swerves into the left lane to pass me. I take my eyes off the rear-view mirror and look up to see a beige Cutlass pull directly in front of me and stop cold, obviously spying the black car racing down the left lane. The driver does not see me. I recognize this and immediately apply the breaks. Its much too late. The woman looks up in surprise, the sound of skidding tires alerts her to my presence. I cannot swerve to the left, Mario is busily passing me there. The sidewalk is not an option either. I only have 25 feet to stop, and I see that my mild 40mph is most likely going to bring me about 3 feet beyond the exterior of her car. I close my eyes and wait for the impact. I am not kept long. I feel the seat belt dig into my chest, my head snapping forward and then violently slamming back into the seat. I still see the horror in her eyes as she contemplates the grill of my car. She looks older, quite a bit older than me. Then nothing. I look about and see that the minivan tailing me has stopped about a foot from my rear bumper and the cutlass has been pushed about a foot down the road. I indicate to her to back up into the parking lot from where she came ... she looks at me in stunned silence, hands fluttering over her mouth. Then she slowly sinks her head down and starts to look about. What is she doing? I need to get out of traffic, the minivan impatiently tries to maneuver around me. I try to finesse my car into the same parking lot, with sluggish and clumsy shifting. Reverse, forward, reverse, forward ... I manage to squeeze between the impetuous minivan and the damaged cutlass. Oddly enough, the damage looks pretty minor. The driver's door is pushed in, and the front quarter behind the wheel is dented. I cant imagine that my plastic saturn sl1 has fared very well. This is an older car, steel and iron. American made, when American made meant something. When the woman sees what I am doing, she comes to and starts to back up. The car behind her has already pulled back into a parking spot and the driver looks to be making a call on her cell phone. As I park my car, the older woman parks next to me and rolls down her window. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault!" I'm thinking, "Ok, she seems ok, but that is an awfully quick admission of responsibility." I ask her if she is alright, she looks to be a bit shaken, like me, but nods quickly and starts to fumble for her insurance card. "Its my first accident, Its my fault, Im so sorry!" I start to feel guilty now. Must be my Minnesota upbringing to respect elders kicking in. People start to descend on the scene. "Is every thing ok?" "Anyone hurt?" No, no, we are all fine ... Im calling 911 now. I can barely make out the voice on the other side, I just blurt out that there has been an accident on County Line Road, near Hatboro ... we are in the parking lot of Dollarland. The static and rasp of a voice makes no sense to me. Am I hurt? Some kind of stroke or brain damage? No, no blood from anywhere ... gadzooks, no wonder Philly gets a bad rap for 911. I hear some sirens in the distance and quickly hang up the phone. I quickly recant my mis-trust in 911. Three police cruisers roll into the parking lot, one un-marked traffic patrol, 1 Warminister and 1 Hatboro local patrol cars. Wow. This may take less time than I thought. I hand over my papers and start to inspect my car ... I cant find any damage. But, I just caved her door in. I find a scratch on the rubber bumper. In the end, I lost about 30 minutes of time. In my conversation with the other driver, she tells me her late husband had bought the car for her back in '82. It looks like she bought it last year, spotless. She seems flustered, she repeats her apology over and over. I tell her that it is ok. No one was hurt and the car is just 'stuff'. I can always buy new stuff. Especially since we are a three car family with two drivers, this is no big deal to me. There is virtually no damage to my car and it looks like a minor delay. She tells me that her son just passed away and her husband died last year. I don't know how to respond to that, so I quickly tell her its all going to be ok. I think she is in emotional shock. The group of police are surveying her car, trying to determine if she could drive it home. In the end, we all go our ways and I get my perfect hair cut. I contemplate this and wonder if the situation could have gone to a place that I have been before. I decide that I don't want to consider that and deem this as yet another blessing in disguise. For all I know, she could have saved my life by stopping short. She could have kept going, and that little black car could have run me into a tree. I think I'll appreciate my haircuts a little more from now on.