Coming out of a local electronics shop, I spot three old ladies making their way between the back of my truck and the front of a car in the parking lot. One bends down and picks pieces of something off the ground. The three of them keep shuffling forward toward the dollar store.
A funny thought strikes me: what if they hit the back of my truck when parking their car?
I quickly make my way over to where my Ranger is parked, and carefully inspect the ground where the grey-haired lady picked something up. I notice shards of dark plastic. My eyes wander over to the broken and cracked front grille of the car, then to my rear bumper, where more little pieces of the dark stuff sit.
Okay, now to find out if the ladies are the culprits.
I half run to the dollar store, fearful I might lose sight of them. I glance back to check out the colour of the car, whose top looks silver under the snow but whose body is hidden by other parked vehicles.
The bells on the door jingle as I open the door leading into the store. The three ladies are looking at some bric-à-brac items on a shelf. I approach them to ask if one of them are driving a silver car.
“No,” says one woman, probably the youngest. “We don’t own a silver car. Why?”
“Well, I’m not sure if the car is silver to be honest, but is it possible that one of you accidentally hit a truck while parking?”
“No, we didn’t hit nothing; what truck?” asks the same dyed-haired lady.
“It’s a red truck. Would you mind showing me where you’re parked? Because I think there might have been a little accident.”
“We don’t own no silver car,” she answers again.
Reluctantly, two of them decide to follow me to the parking spot only a few metres from the entrance. One says in a very low voice, “I didn’t mean to hit it; it was an accident.”
Ha ha! Gotcha!
In the end, all was okay, but I was miffed that they simply walked away. There was no damage to my rear bumper thanks to the hitch for my bike rack, but I was so afraid of losing sight of them, that I didn’t check before running in their direction.
The old woman felt really bad about the whole thing and was worried about her insurance. I told her not to worry about that as there was no damage to my truck but that she should find out how much her grille costs, as it might be to her advantage to simply have it replaced.
Lesson learned? Never trust little old ladies, at least the ones who drive Chrysler LeBarons.