Not again ...

So I'm driving home after having dropped my son off at soccer camp yesterday. I'm sitting stopped at a red light, minding my own business of course, when all of a sudden BANG! The car in the lane next to mine just drives right into the vehicle in front of it. This of course reminds me of the time about 10 years ago when my beloved Honda Civic was rear-ended by a trophy wife in a Mercedes Benz, snapping its axle like a twig and giving me an excruciating case of whiplash.

Now when this happened yesterday, I was on the way back to my house where my ex was waiting for me to drop off the van so she could drive to work. "Drop it off by 10," she said. "No later than 10." She said this about five times because she hates being late. So there I am, sitting next to this mess, knowing that if I stop to help, I'm going to be late getting back, thereby pissing off my ex.

It's really just a fender-bender, although the two young women in the car are probably suffering from whiplash themselves right about now. The vehicle they hit -- a half-tonne truck -- lurched forward on impact and hit the car in front of it. The woman in that car -- a little Mazda -- is about eight months pregnant. She's shaking and crying, so we decide to call an ambulance just in case.

Of course I realize that once I call 9-1-1 that means the police are going to come as well. And the woman who rear-ended the truck is probably going to be charged. I kind of feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for all of us actually, including myself, because I know what my ex's face is going to look like when I finally show up with the van. It's going to be that angry, scrunched-up face.

So after about 45-50 minutes, I finish talking to the police. The tow-truck drivers, who appear like a flock of vultures about 2 minutes after I call 9-1-1, realize nobody needs towing and leave. Must have gone back to the tow-truck pit, or the parole office or whatever. The paramedics have also come and gone, having checked out the drivers and decided they were all fine.

I try calling my ex, but SURPRISE!!! my cellphone is dead. The truck driver's cellphone is dead too. I don't want to ask the other woman if I can borrow her phone because I feel bad about having to call in the accident and telling the police how she plowed into the back of the truck.

So I leave and go looking for a pay phone. I finally find one. It's been vandalized. I find another pay phone. It doesn't work either. Then I get lost. I finally get to the house at about 10:22 a.m. Sure enough, the ex is pacing the sidewalk, briefcase in hand. Scrunched face: check. Clenched teeth: check. Clenched fists: check. Clenched everything: check.

After I apologize for being late, I tell her what happened. She's pissed at being made late but says I did the right thing. I'm not so sure.