Our dear old car was the victim of a hit-and-run accident last night.
This latest paint-scraping, bumper denting blow continues a long line of minor run-ins this car has had with things, including, but not limited to: a flying shopping cart in a near-tornado, a tiny deer, and a driveway with deceptively narrow walls on both sides.
Unfortunately for the driver of the car that banged into us, the fact that it was 11 at night did not mean that he got away unnoticed. The Dairyland parking lot is the Midwest equivalent of an Italian courtyard--a little square surrounded by lots of very, very, watchful people. Our next-door neighbor, a farmer in town on business, conferred with us this morning on the make, model, color (that one was pretty easy, as you can see from the photo), and window-tintedness of the offending car, and reported said facts to Tom, the Dairyland owner and manager. Tom somehow knew that only two cars in town met the description. He did some reconnaisance, and within several hours reported that one of them had significant damage to the front end, coupled with lots of maroon paint.
Our neighbor and Tom are both very upset on our behalf, and both seem to think contacting the police and pressing a hit-and-run charge is fully appropriate and necessary but we would be okay with an apology. Or an enormous wad of cash to compensate us for the trauma of having a hole in the bumper.
Moral of the story: Don't Mess With The Dairyland, People!