Crash course morality

Today, in a moment of pure spatial dissonance, Slinky lost her fender-bender virgin status and practically wept when she inspected the damage to the three-week old Honda Civic Sports that she'd kissed bumpers with. In fact, she was probably more upset than the actual owners themselves, who were very lovely and assured her cheerfully that "These things happen!" Despite this, Slinky went home to have a quiet nervous breakdown consisting of some unnecessarily violent floor-cleaning and a long, whingey conversation with The Other Cat (which culminated in plotting to hook up two senior citizens at a prawn pond, but that's another story). I also spoke with The Boy, but note to self in the future – when bad things happen, just call The Other Cat.

I had hit the car while trying to get into a parking lot and scraped some paint off the other car, just below the headlight. It was ugly, but no structural damage was caused as far as I could see. The owners were nowhere in sight. And the first thing I did (after banging my head on the steering wheel whimpering "ohfuckno") was to grab a pen and a piece of paper and leave my name and my number under their windscreen wiper.

The thing is, when I related this incident over dinner, out of the 11 people present, the majority expressed sentiments along the line of "So stupid, why didn't you just run? Then you don't need to pay!" (Names will not be named to protect the morally bankrupt.) Out of those 11 people, only 3 other people would have left their contact details. The rest would have just buggered off like jalapenos were blazing a fiery trail of rectal destruction up their arses

The odd thing was, these very same people have had had their cars damaged before by anonymous drivers who did exactly that, which had made them furious. Yet the very act which had enraged them made them feel justified in doing it to someone else. As if somehow the fact that an injustice done to yourself would be erased by the inflicting the same unfair act on another. The justification is like saying "Someone stole from me, so it justifies my act of theft from an uninvolved, innocent third party."

I don't overstate the case when I say I'm horrified. Maybe that makes me some sort of fossil with the values of an 18th century virgin spinster. But I wouldn't have been able to respect myself if I had just driven away. Sure, I'm broke, and yes, I could well spend the next few months tightening my belt even further, depending on what the mechanic tells me tomorrow. But at least I wouldn't have been a complete shit. I guess I earned Miss C's bestowed title of 'moral compass' today, if this is the real way of the world.

Am I wrong in this? Am I some pathetic idealist who needs to be told to sit down because, hey lady, guess what, Santa doesn't exist? The thing that rocks me about this is, I had assumed that my friends would have done the same thing as me, should they have been in my place. I didn't even question it. You tend to assume that the people you surround yourself with have more or less the same values as you do. I wouldn't be surprised if strangers would do it. But not friends. And yet, people surprise you. All the time.