Don't park

We know that the original Central Market parking lot is bad and evil. We were struck while not moving, right in the middle of the parking space, by a harpy in a stupid giant expensive new SUV who tried to claim that the collision was our fault. She was moving. Our ignition was off. But this time it happened in the H-E-B lot when we weren't even there. As would have been done in the Austin of yore, the person left a note containing an apology and a telephone number on the windshield and then even answered the phone. What she thought was "a scratch" is going to involve a great deal of work, perhaps more than has yet been discovered. It's in day two of being in the shop. The body guy is out sick. Our poor, only car, almost ten years old and with just over 33,000 miles on the odometer. It would look like new, even though it came to us used, were it not for idiots. And the fax machines of other people have been busy all day. And emergency dental work is needed, but there's just one car and it's out of commission and we need to be by the telephone, not being users of cell phones. And did I mention the cowardice factor? The one who needs the dental work must be accompanied by the one who doesn't need it. Woe.