I hesitate to even call it that; if it were a child this would be the equivalent of a stubbed toe. Let’s rewind:
The year is 2016. The sun is shining. It’s July in Kansas. I’m at the hospital for a checkup, and after getting in my ‘03 G35 it’s time to head home. I back out of my parking spot and before putting the car in gear notice a Dodge Dakota backing towards my passenger rear side. I’m frozen in fear and don’t even think to throw the car in drive and inch forward a few feet.
I watch in awe as this truck hits my rear fender moving at what I believe to be 2 mph. My car shakes a bit and I get out, dumbfounded. I talk to the guy and don’t notice any immediate damage. My mom works at the hospital so I call her.
She comes out and assists me in exchanging info. After a closer look I had the slightest dent in my wheel well, which is the best you can hope for when a truck backs into you.
My car still drove fine, but I then had to take it to an auto repair place and have the damage fixed. A few days and $1200 later my Infiniti was as good as new, (except for the G badge they forgot to put back on).