d, anyway,
so I could at least get the name of his insurance company--I'd already
memorized his personal license number (which doesn't bear
repeating--I'd always thought the DMV had standards of decency).

I hopped out, trying to pull up the collar of my overcoat even though
it wouldn't quite cover my head, and started walking forward to have a
few choice words with Mister Country Jamboree in the over-endowed
automobile. Of course, CJ (as I then dubbed the driver) bounded out of
the Jeep and headed my way, tucking in his shirt as he walked. One
look at him, and I almost turned around and left--CJ could have been
Paul Bunyan's twin brother. He had the shirt to prove it, too: red
and black lumberjack style checks, with the top three buttons undone,
and chest hair that was thicker than my beard. He also wore cowboy
boots and wide red suspenders.

"Holy moley, mister!" he yelled with a tone of real concern. "You
alright?"

I was about to lay into him when his gum-chewing girlfriend appeared
from behind, tucking herself into his armpit. "Oh!" she squealed,
"Ah'm so sorry! Looks like our tree smashed up your brand new car!"

My car wasn't exactly brand new, but I looked around to where she
pointed. Sure enough, the front grill was bent in and one headlight
had gone out, the glass completely smashed. The tree itself was
nestled cozily under the car, nuzzling up against the oil pan.

The look of childish helplessness on both their faces--and frankly what
I considered might be a moderate dose of dull wittedness--somehow got
to me just then, and I couldn't quite bring myself to swear at them.
Besides, the fastest thing to do would be to shrug it off with a happy
face, extract their battered shrubbery from beneath my car, and be on
my way. I decided that silliness would carry the day. "Merry
Christmas!" I called, throwing out my arms. "Sorry about your tree!"
Both of them lit up in grins.

"Look--he ain't even mad," the guy said to his girlfriend.

She batted her lashes in astonishment. "We're awfully sorry about
this," she chimed, wagging her head.

It only took a minute to get the tree out from under the car. All the
while, I was thinking of how to explain it to the patrolman who would
undoubtedly appear in a moment: it's just another roadkill, officer,
nothing to be alarmed about; I'm sure it happens all the time, what
with all these trees swooping down on unsuspecting holiday merrymakers.

The tree w