Wasn't what you'd call living really

We live in a not so idyllic neighborhood, visually it's sub-rural but underneath it's a dark and not so much Lynchian as Bush like. Not that a description regarding how it appears will really give anyone a sense of it, but for the most part, it just seems bright and empty.
Yesterday, Eamon and I had the day off together. These are rare days and add that there were no children home and it's a true anomaly.
So, we went out spent some time in the world and returned home. Normally he would have parked his car in the drive, but as I hired some landscapers, and they managed to show up three weeks late and with no warning, they were all about filling up the space with tools and mulch.
We parked on the street and went to bring stuff in the house. I happened to look out the window just as his car was being hit by the 86 year old grandma who lives across the street with her family. She hit it and then pulled away with nary a pause. Now, this is no scratch there is a deep and obvious dent in the car and her's was showing some damage as well. So Granny hit and run must have known that she hit a stationary object, but felt like that trip to say, Walgreens or Drugmart, was more important to attend to than leaving the scene of an accident.
I'm just glad it wasn't a kid or a dog because that would most certainly have left a mark.