Accidents happen. But the turns they take, I suppose, depend a lot on us. I drove down Georgetown Pike a fall afternoon in a long stream of traffic, through Great Falls in Virginia. Suddenly a car surged in front of me from the lane on the right. I pressed hard on the brake, but my car inched forward and struck the other car, a new Volvo, with a thud. My car had dents, but I could see that the Volvo had more damage.

The driver stepped out, looked at the damage and expostulated loudly that I was driving too fast. I got out and faced him: an older man, late sixties, good-looking and well-dressed, now visibly agitated. I was shaken too, but the moment I saw his perturbed face, I felt sorry.

I said, “I am sorry your car is damaged. I am also sorry I have upset you. My sincere apologies.”

He looked taken aback and controlled himself. He gave me his card and the name of his insurance company. I responded in kind. We agreed to talk the following day and took leave of each other. I said in parting, “I am very sorry that this has happened. I notice your wife is in the car; my apologies to her too.”

He called next morning. “I apologise,” he said, “for talking rudely to you. That was uncalled for. Let us share the necessary information.” We talked, beyond the necessary information, and I learned that his car did not start after the accident and he had to walk home with his wife. I regretted my oversight and said I would have gladly driven him home had I known.

The next day was my birthday, and I resented having to attend to my car instead of joining a party. I left the car at a body shop, which also arranged for me to pick up a rental car. The shop manager was pleasant; he offered me a cup of coffee and chatted me up. I felt I had made a friend.

The Volvo owner and I talked affably on the phone the next day and agreed to meet for lunch the day after. That morning his insurance company called me to say it accepted full liability for the accident, and I returned the rental car and went to retrieve my own car.

The body shop manager handed me my car and then, rather unexpectedly, gave me the gift of a miniature American flag made, he said, by his daughter. He introduced me to his colleagues, and insisted on my sharing coffee and doughnuts with them. He said, “You came for work, but we have enjoyed meeting you. We will like you to visit us and have some coffee with us whenever you are in this part of the town.” I was touched.

After the agreed lunch with the Volvo owner, I tried to pay for it but he firmly stopped me and said, “I invited you. Besides, there is a good reason why I should pay.”

He explained, “My insurance company told me this morning that the liability was mine. On the way to the restaurant, the thought occurred to me tha, since you are getting the money for the accident, you should pay for the lunch. Then I was ashamed of the thought. So, I must pay for the lunch, for to let you pay would be to let the insidious thought win.”

I was almost glad that I had had the accident.

(The writer is a Washington-based international development advisor and had worked with the World Bank. He can be reached at mnandy@gmail.com)