SCARING MYSELF

So... I was driving west along Hollywood Boulevard and approaching Normandie last Saturday afternoon and set my turn indicator to begin a slow change into the left of the two westbound lanes to pass slowing traffic. At the same time, a car approaching unseen from behind me zipped past, nicking my driver's side mirror, presumably with its own passenger side mirror--just a click, really, but enough to alarm me into the realization of a very near miss.

The driver of the other car first slowed down to yell at me as I returned to my lane; then stopped, a half block ahead, to check if there was any damage. I pulled up behind it. The driver--it turned out to be an Asian-American woman, but no stereotype is intended here--got out of her car in a fury and, while continuing to berate me, went round to her passenger side and inspected the mirror, which proved to have a scuff mark--not a scratch--of a kind that could not possibly have resulted from this "collision." Still, she seemed to need to prove some point and started to suggest that I had damaged her car--but I was relieved to note that the scuff mark was easily removed by nothing more than a little friction with the fingers.

No damage at all, then, to her car; I was actually more worried about my own side mirror, which had been jolted at an angle from its default position, but I was nonetheless relieved to know that she had no basis for a lawsuit. I had the impression she would have been happy to have had cause, but perhaps that's being unkind. In any event, the absence of damage did nothing to mitigate her fury. She started to accuse me further, asking what I thought I was doing, driving a car at my age! And eventually, finally, thankfully, drove off in a huff.

Well, technically speaking I believe I was in the right. It's the car approaching from behind that has the responsibility to avoid any obstacle up ahead. She was certainly approaching me faster than was safe. Still, even though I had not seen her in my mirror, my move was unintentionally discourteous, and I could certainly understand her anger. It came in part, I'm sure, from shock and fear.

As for me, the effect of the shock was more to numb me. It was a half hour or so before the body-mind began to feel the impact and register what might have happened--but thankfully did not. I felt my own anger, fear, and indignation. Her words about my age were an unwelcome reminder. At eighty-two, still physically fit and mentally alert, I do not believe that I am past the age where it is safe to drive. And yet I am of an age where that moment is at least on the horizon, and I realize that it is vital and yet often extremely humbling, even painful, to acknowledge it when it arrives. I know of others who have failed to do so and have become a menace on the public streets. I trust that I will know it when it comes.

So that was my Saturday afternoon adventure. Despite the grievance that I felt, I'm grateful for it in the sense that it offered me a valuable lesson in humility and a reminder of the importance of a sharp awareness--particularly, of course, while driving!