I am driving to work and "Holiday" is exactly the song I want to hear when all of a sudden that silver car is stopped and waiting to turn and it's the rain and I can't stop and I can't move into the other lane because another car is there and I can't stop and bang and then BANG and I'm getting out of my car, shaking and confused. "Hi," I saw to the Korean woman who just got out of the silver car. I tell her my name. "Hi," she says. "Insurance?" "Yes." The white woman who finished up the collision does not leave her car but shakes my hand through the window. And I'm realizing how fortunate it is that I'm not black when the white cop shows up and treats me nicely. He calls me by my first name. Later when I am still shaking but less he lets me know that he knew my name because I was still wearing a nametag on my jacket.

In a few hours when I have mostly calmed down I look over the car again. The damage to the front should run in the middle hundreds. The damage to the back will probably be more towards two thousand, but that's not my problem to pay for.

What if I didn't have the levels of class privilege that I do? I would have to give up on the motorcycle trip. But I do have class privilege and my father will loan me any amount of money needed to fix the car because he is so excited about the trip.
posted by weiss @ 10:27 AM