Then what are *Bumpers* for?

I have a pretty tiny car. According to the maker’s specs, it’s 154.7 inches long. 12.8 feet. That’s it! It’s especially ideal for finding parking downtown. I get that last little spot that no one else can squeeze into… even if it takes a bit of finagling.

OK, I'm not this small... but you get the idea.

OK, my car isn't quite this small... but you get the idea.

And yes, when I in my tiny car, or anyone else in their not so tiny car is negotiating the available space… your bumper just might get bumped. Tapped. Lightly kissed with my bumper.

Now, this is very very rare. For one thing, I still consider my almost 3-year-old car very new, and I’m equally paranoid about scratching it and/or making some other car-owner mad… so I always err on the side of way-too-much-room. I’ll often frustrate the husband by leaving behind a perfectly viable parking spot if I’m at all apprehensive about squeezing in.

For another thing, I’m actually pretty darn good at judging the unseen parameters of my hatchback-n-hood, thankyouverymuch!

… but still, infrequently, bumps happen.

And when you happen to be actually sitting in your giant truck (taking up two car lengths on the curb) when I happen to make the tiniest, slightest contact to your huge plastic and metal bumper, moving at about 5 inches an hour…

…and when you jump out of your giant truck to inspect your huge plastic and metal bumper while I am still in the process of negotiating one of the tiny legal parking spots you’ve left on either side of your two car-lengths…

…and when I roll down my window to genuinely, politely apologize with the appropriate mea culpa, explaining –truthfully– that I thought the tiny nudge was the curb…

…please, please answer my honest concern and my offer to park-elsewhere-and-come-look-at-your-bumper-with-you by yelling shrilly “Yes, You Hit Me! You Did! I Was Just Sitting Here and You Hit Me!” Even if you grudgingly concede there is nothing wrong with your huge plastic and metal bumper and slam your way back into your giant truck, your shrill condemnation will dog me all week, driving me and my tiny menace of a vehicle to farther, emptier, lonelier lots and pastures. Surely such commandingly fierce protection of your bumper will make this town a safer place.

Thank you.

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3 thoughts on “Then what are *Bumpers* for?

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