[Sailor Steve]

Back in the early 1980s, when I was driving skiers from Salt Lake Airport to the nearby resorts, I picked up a group from the last flight in, which was around midnight. After I dropped them off in Park City I stopped at the local 7-11. The parking lot was full so I had to park on the street, which at that time was fairly fast and fairly empty, especially at One in the morning. I was inside eating a burrito and drinking a Doctor Pepper (of course), and talking to the clerk when a guy walked in and asked "Is that your van?"

When I asked "Which van?" he replied "The one that just got hit."

I went outside to find a small white car with its hood (bonnet for our British friends) buried under the back of my van, all the way up to the windshield. A girl who looked to be barely drinking age came up to me crying and kept saying "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

When a cop showed up he saw my uniform shirt, so he figured the van was mine and talked to the girl first. I have no idea what the outcome of that conversation was, but after awhile he came over to me and in a deep, hard "official" voice said "I need to ask you a couple of questions. First, were you wearing your seat belt at the time of the accident?"

Putting on what I imagined to be my best Arlo Guthrie voice I replied "In all honesty, officer, I'm going to have to answer that in the negative."

"You weren't?" he asked. "Why not?"

"Because I wasn't in the van when the accident happened."

He gave me a strange look and his voice got even more official as he asked "Where were you?"

"I was inside the 7-11."

His voice jumped two octaves and cracked when he said "WHAT?!"

I said "That's right officer. It seems this poor girl managed to park her car underneath my van with no help from me at all."

He snapped his book shut and his voice got all official again as he sternly said "Well then, I guess I don't need to ask you any more questions!"

And that was my only encounter ever with a drunk driver.