Angrily, Savvy got out of her car and stomped back to the red Porsche. Inside the car was a good-looking man about 20 years old.

"Let me see your driver's license and registration please," Savvy said through gritted teeth.

"You're not the police, so I don't have to show you anything," replied the man.

"Listen, mister, I have go to go to work, so I need to see your driver's license and registration so I can contact you later about the accident," Savvy said with a forced smile.

"The accident was obviously your fault. I was going around you and you swung out and hit me," said the man.

"Fine," Savvy snapped. "Let's just wait and see what the police have to say."

"Fine with me," the man said.

As Savvy stood by the side of the road, some old black bum reeking of whiskey and cheap booze wandered over to her and held out a paper cup. She dropped a twenty in it to get rid of him. The bum nodded politely and shuffled away.

About twenty minutes later, the police arrived. It was not soon enough for Savvy. The policeman got out of his car and approached the Porsche.

"What seems to be the problem, miss?" he asked.

"Well, officer, this gentleman hit me as I was going around another car," Savvy said.

"And what do you have to say about that, sir?" the policeman turned to the man in the car.

"Well, officer, the lady hit me and I . . ." the man launched into his explanation of the events.

"Say, son, aren't you Jarrod Williamson that used to play for the Chicago Cubs?" the policeman asked enthusiastically.

"Why yes officer, that's me," Williamson looked mockingly at Savvy.

As the two men began to talk about Williamson's short but spectacular career, Savvy tapped her foot impatiently and rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long day.