The Blame Game

I  blame the Skeleton in the back of the truck. That's the reason I plowed into the back of a mini van. If there had not been a really cute Halloween decoration passing me, I would have been paying attention to my lane of traffic. I would have been able to brake in time. I would have made it to the grocery store, gone home, baked cookies and cleaned house.

Instead I took a second to laugh at a skeleton in the back of a pickup truck and plowed into the back of a mini van. (I know I keep using the word "plowed" - but that's how my head remembers it when I replay it.) And instead of going to the grocery store, I went to the ER. Instead of a $25 grocery bill, I have a $187.50 ticket to pay. And it is ALL THE SKELETON'S FAULT!!! I want to hunt that silly truck owner down and ask them what they hell they were thinking!

I don't want to be the one to blame. But I am. And that is embarrassing. A bit humiliating. Quite humbling. Since I've been stuck at home with no car and a lot of painkillers, I've been thinking about blame and ownership. If someone tells the story of a car accident, it is always a story of how someone else was at fault. No one tells the story of when they were at fault. And since we are a culture that learns behavior (even attitudes and beliefs) modeling what others do, I'm a little lost. For some reason, it's important to my psyche that I own up to the fact that I royally fucked up when I was driving on Friday. I allowed myself to be distracted. I deserve an inattentive driving ticket. But it sure would be nice to know I'm not the only one.