Your Convey

It is not a good day for me. I have to ask my driving student to leave as there is nothing else she can do. She is shaking, unable to recover fast from the minor crash our car had just suffered. I tell her that I would deal with the damage. She nods, although I am not sure how much she has heard me.

I give my attention to the group that is gathering. One by one, the passengers of the bus get down. Oh my goodness! Tourists! Some come down to inspect the damage the crash has caused. They are not really worried about the bus. It is not theirs. Their eyes eye at my car.

A nice old lady asks if I am the student. I tell her that I am the driving instructor. That gets some of them to mumble. She asks me if I am protected. I assume she is referring to insurance. I nod my head. She wants to know which insurance group I belong to. Although I think she is nice, I wonder if I am ready to handle a nosy lady.

Why? I ask.

She says that she does not trust insurance. She does not trust any insurance groups. Oh, I say. She goes on rambling that she has problems in the past with several insurance groups. She likes none of them now. I ask for the reason. She says nothing at first and then she sneers. I imagine she is thinking of those problems she has come across in making claims from the insurance groups she was attached to.

I think of the crash. I wonder how long this matter will take. I feel uneasy standing under the hot sun. I pray that these tourists feel the same. I believe the travel has been a long one for them. Some of them look like they appreciate the opportunity to come down from the bus to stretch their legs. The roads in this town are not even. It must be tiring and restless for them to travel through here. And I wonder how far still these tourists have to travel to reach their destination.

The nice old lady sees me staring at her friends. She must have seen the sympathy in my eyes. She smiles. I smile back.