Scrunched license plate
OK, it was Arlene who got rear-ended, not me. Good thing for me, because if the person who wasn't looking when Arlene was stopped at a light (not a question of stopping short for a light, but being stopped at a light) hadn't seen me on a bicycle in front of her, I would have been damaged worse than the Forester was. As it is, the license plate is mangled, the frame around it is broken, and one piece of bumper trim needs to be reattached. Arlene is taking ibuprofen to keep her neck from siezing up. It looks as though it's not too serious.
Somewhat after that, I was in the bank filling out deposit slips. The previous day I had spoken to a guy in front of the post office about the three kayaks on top of his SUV, and (in the course of discussing gasoline prices & how much better mileage he got with a small SUV plus a tiny trailer than he would with a bigger vehicle) said that if the weather had been nicer I would have been bicycling to work and getting better mileage yet. Anyway, whatever, the guy turned out to have been active in the Charles River Wheelmen bike club that I used to ride with, yadda, yadda, yadda. OK. Anyway, whatever again, the same guy was in the bank also filling out deposit slips and started talking again. In fact, he was bantering with someone at a teller window, “I'll smell you later.” When that person left, he started telling me all about that guy. The smell is from the oil delivery truck that person owns and drives. “Tragic, tragic story about his sister and mother,” the guy talking to me said. Seems that the person who had just left the bank had accidently killed his sister about 30 years ago, panicked, and buried her in the fens. The parents were never the same afterwards. So, even in Newton. I hadn't been looking up to see the person at the teller's window, so I won't put it all together when I see him on the street.
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