I go to the door and the young woman, who is looking very upset, starts apologising. I ask her if anyone was hurt, she says no, and I tell her that's all that matters, anything else can be sorted. We head out to my car, and I'm expecting that she's backed into the door or a fender. She's apologising the whole time.
"Any idea where you hit?" I say, unable to see any damage.
"The bumper bar."
I look. Some of the dirt from the Nullarbor trip has been scraped off, and there is a kind of dark rubbery mark. I wipe at it with my hand and it comes straight off, as does more dirt. The girl is still apologising. Defacto-in-law comes out with his camera, and asks if I want a photo taken of the damage.
I point to the shiny, undamaged chrome where I've just wiped away the mark and a layer of dirt and say, "Yeah, get a pic, it's never been that clean before."
I assure the woman that there is no damage done, then my curiosity kicks in - can I see her car? It's a newish vehicle, maybe two or three years old. The car wasn't even running when she hit me, she just took the handbrake off and let the gentle slope of her driveway carry her out. There's a hole in her bumper bar. The material has actually been torn open by a very low speed impact with my car. She's going to have to get a new bumper, she's probably up for around $1200. Her indicator is also smashed.
She wants to exchange details, she's still worried about my old bomb. I tell her that there's obviously no problem, but if I do find one, she lives across the road from my relatives, they can collect her details. She calms down a little. We say goodbye and head inside.
When Shaz and I come to leave, I notice the bits of her broken indicator on the ground next to my car, and can't help but feel a bit guilty...
...and just a little triumphant!
Go the Belwood!