I left work around 4:30 this afternoon and walked to the second floor of my parking structure. As I headed down my row, I noticed a back bumper lying on the ground, no longer attached to a vehicle.
Some shmegegge must have driven by and hit the car.
I dug my keys out of my pocket and started looking for my Honda. It took me a few seconds of walking back and forth to realize I was the poor sonofabitch with the damaged car. My back bumper was unrecognizable down there by the back tires. It looked like an unbuckled belt, or maybe a tie, carelessly loosened after a hard day at work.
A note had been left on my windshield, and the shmegegge turned out to be a very polite law student who was immediately forthcoming with his insurance information.
I called an office buddy and had him look at the bumper with me. We got some duct tape and put the bumper back where it belonged.
I drove home slowly, avoiding the freeway, no longer critical of cars that appear to be held together by toothpaste and string.