As almost anyone can tell you, a mood can change from ebullient to irate in almost the blink of an eye. So it was for me last week as I was minding my own business and driving home with little traffic from a pre-birthday gathering at Elmo’s. As I traveled toward Destin, I glanced in the rearview mirror—as we are taught to do when we learn to drive. What I saw was difficult to believe.

A car had come out of nowhere and was following me so closely I couldn’t see the headlights of the car. The car behind me was much lower than the rear end of my Camry and I said to myself, “You are about to be rear-ended.” I took my eyes from the mirror to the road ahead and saw the light at West Hewitt Road change to yellow. As I was a goodly distance from the light, I had to stop and of course I was hit. Seat-belted and serene as I had been, I wasn’t hurt, but I was mighty irritated.

I got out of the car and headed back toward the car that hit me. The driver was a very young man and with his first words told me he didn’t have a license to drive and to please not call the police. I told him he didn’t have a license to drive because he couldn’t drive; he had been following too close and I was calling the police. He implored me not to, saying he was from Africa. I don’t know if that was some sort of plea to some sort of white guilt I’m supposed to have or not, but I told him I didn’t care where he was from, he had no business driving a car.

As I was speaking to the Walton County Sheriff’s Department, the young man very calmly and without haste went back to the car he was driving, opened the passenger door and helped out his lady friend. Then the duo proceeded to stroll in the direction of Panama City, as if nothing whatsoever had happened.

My jaw dropped open. The Chevy was sitting attached to mine, lights on, and they just simply walked away. I told the deputy on the line they were gone. He asked for a description of the driver and I told him. I also said I was moving my car out of the way of oncoming traffic and told him two or three times that no one had been injured in response to his queries.

I proceeded to the light and turned right onto West Hewitt and parked on the side of the road. In short order, Deputy Skipper arrived and I pointed out the direction the people took when they left the scene, walking east, but facing traffic heading west. Of course, being the directionally challenged person I am, I decided Panama City was west, which is one of the few directions I actually do know. I learned that one my first week in the area…if you are going east, the water is on the right, if you are going west, the water is on the left. In my defense, I was a little shaken because the whole episode was so surreal.

Walton County responded to my incident in force. Even though I said no one was hurt, a giant fire truck and an EMS vehicle came to the scene, along with three deputy vehicles. I asked if it was a slow night and they said yes. I guess Walton County officials don’t mind firing up all those expensive-to-operate vehicles and have them speed with full sirens to a to an accident scene with no drama whatsoever.

Of course I had to produce all sorts of documents showing I had the right to drive and the deputies on scene was going over the abandoned car and taking their time about it while I tried to calm down and listen to music in my car. My car, as far as I can tell, may have some paint chipped off near the bottom of the rear bumper, but I would have to bend way over to see it and I haven’t done that yet, so I’m thinking it is basically undamaged. The hood of the other car didn’t fare so well, so hurray for the strength of a Toyota bumper.

Deputy Skipper tells me the vehicle that hit me is registered, has insurance and, strangely, the owner lives somewhere near me. Some time this week I will get the police report, which I will have to pay a fee to receive, something I feel adds insult to non-injury.

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