Car doors have two stages of open. You know what I’m talking about. There’s “wide open” where the door is opened its widest. Depending on the engineering it could be almost perpendicular to the car. Then there’s that mystifying midpoint which I will call “half open”. I can only venture a guess about how “half open” works – something to do with groves in the hinges – but I know it exists. It’s too reliable, too useful, to be something other than a deliberate feature adopted by all automakers.

The feature has prevented many a dinged door in parking lots all over the world. When loading groceries in tight spaces you can rest your door in that “half open” position and load up. You may have to twist around or hold yourself in odd angle to fit through the narrowed opening, but at least you can do it with peace of mind.

Last night, around midnight, my “half open” gave out. I don’t think I bumped it. I think gravity just pulled on the heavy door too long.

The side mirror of the car next to me skid across the pavement.

It was late. No one was around. I was tired. I didn’t have paper. I picked up the mirror and fit it back into its slot on the door. I could have moved the van to another parking place too, but I’d be up and gone before 90% of the people at the hotel anyway, so there was no point.

I didn’t want to write a note. I didn’t know how the problem would be handled. I didn’t know how much it would cost. I just didn’t want to have to worry about it. But the good side of me overrulled and I told myself I’d leave a note on my way out in the morning. If the car was already gone, well, that was God giving me a break.

The car wasn’t gone, though I couldn’t see it at first. I wrote up the note and seriously contemplated not leaving it. But I did. I left my phone number. I figure the repairs can’t be much more than $100. I’ll just reimburse them for it.

I hope this is quick and painless.

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