April 25, 2025
by Brandon Cole Matthews

A couple of days ago, I made a mistake. Not just with my car, but with my conscience.

It was one of those brutal winter nights—temps down around -20, snow blowing sideways. I had to run out for gas and to pick up some heat treatment for the car. My car is a complete beater, but it usually does okay… except I still had summer tires on, and stopping was almost impossible.

I was about five blocks from home, coming up to a red light, when I hit the brakes and just kept sliding. Maybe going 5 or 6 mph tops, but still, I couldn’t stop. I slid right into the back of this guy’s truck. No real damage to him—barely even a scratch—but my bumper cracked from the cold like it was made of glass.

The guy was chill about it, said it was no big deal, and we both agreed to just leave it at that. No insurance, no cops, just two people who understood that winter driving sucks sometimes.

But when I got home, I panicked. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was being reckless or irresponsible, especially with my car already in rough shape. So I lied. I told everyone my neighbor had backed into my car while it was parked.

I thought it would just blow over. But now, two days later, it’s eating at me. I hate lying. Even over something this small. I know it didn’t hurt anyone else, but it still feels wrong. I don’t even know if or how I fix it at this point. Just feels like one more stupid thing on a list of things I wish I could take back.

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