Brand new Chrysler PT Cruiser 2.0 - 16V Classic in deep water blue pearl. That's him. I have his number. A very old Opel Corsa in greenish blue with a crack in the windscreen, flat tires, never washed. Yeah, that's me.
I tried to be calm and easy, made some jokes. He was kind. He even smiled at my jokes. He suggested he'd started first. It took me several minutes to see how nervous he was. His hands were shaking when he tried to write. That's when I took over. He was giving me all the details and reading out the numbers while I was writing. I was trying to entertain him with a social talk in between by asking him questions about where he worked and what he did. "You have a nice car" - I said. "Or should I say: you had a nice car?" - I was still trying to joke. He smiled.
When I was done writing and tried to draw a situation sketch he took over. By then his hands were not shaking anymore. He can draw much better than I. Although, that's really not difficult. Anyway, when he was drawing I saw he'd calmed down. That's when I was more or less sure he'd get home all right.
It's funny how I was more concerned about him than about myself. I had to go much further than him, but I wasn't shocked and my hands were not shaking. I was the one making jokes. I was the one who caused the accident after all. I was driving out of the parking lot and hit him while he was passing by. I hadn't seen him. I should have, but I hadn't. Obviously I wasn't looking.
It's just now, hours later, after I got home through the horrible rain, after the dinner and some chat with my parents, I start to feel. I feel so stupid and dissapointed in myself. I feel ashamed. I feel sorry for the bunch of money I'd thrown away by scratching that Chrysler. I feel sorry for the friend who lent me his car. He trusted me and all I gave him is damage and insurance trouble. I feel small. I feel so sorry for myself - I want to cry. But I cannot cry because I want my parents to think I'm all right.
Heaven, I feel so miserable!!!