I had the best car accident yesterday!
It illustrated very neatly why small-town life--and maybe particularly smalltown Montana life--is kind of addictive (though not nearly as addictive as Montana Meth, HBO is quick to remind us). It was a classic intersection collision--the other driver thought it was a four-way stop and proceeded into the intersection; I couldn't stop quickly enough to avoid him, since it was not a four-way stop--and thanks to the low speeds involved, damage was pretty minimal and no one was hurt. There was no hostility; we introduced ourselves and laughed about the circumstances and called the police to file a report. The dispatcher called me "honey," and the astoundingly courteous officer showed up quickly. It was all over in 15 minutes, and while I will have to go through the irritation of having the car in the body shop, the car is fine to drive until then.
The whole incident was just so civil and non-confrontational that it kind of blew my mind. I remember getting into an accident in Michigan before Chip and I were married. The other driver again was at fault, but I don't remember ever even talking with that person. Even though Michigan is a no-fault state, everyone was terrified of saying something that could get them sued. There was no rueful joking involved.
We do pay certain costs for choosing to live in Montana. Salaries are low. Housing prices--at least where we are and in other "boot" areas of the state--are high. The nearest Indian restaurant from here is a 200-mile drive, not exactly an evening's trip. But the benefits most of the time far outweigh those costs. One time in Prague I slipped going down the steps into the subway. I fell straight down on my tailbone, and while I never had it medically confirmed since there's nothing you can do if you break your ass, I'm pretty sure I did actually break my tailbone. It was one of those falls that hurts so much it makes you want to throw up. While I was trying to gather myself from the fall, my fellow subway riders were glaring at me and making irritated noises at having to walk around my pain. Not once did someone stop to help or even to ask if I was OK. I like to think that would never happen in a place like this. From everything I've experienced so far, I think it's a safe bet.