I was reaching for the lotion in the glove compartment of the jet black Toyota Prius. We were at a stop light. I saw a bus behind us. The bus started to move and I realized within seconds he was going to hit us. Joy put her foot on the gas to attempt to escape but the car could not move fast enough and we got whacked right in the bumper, right back, breaking the tail light. The bus driver was mad, said "He would loose his job". He started waving his hands as Joy jumped out to talk with him. The bus stopped in the middle of the street. All of the passengers on the bus looked on, anxious and upset that their forward progress had been halted. Within about 20 minutes a lot of official people were on the scene: MTA supervisors' and NYC police officers. They all wanted to hear the story. Some took pictures and statements. The passengers from the bus were all transfered like a human herd to another bus. People took sides as to whom was at fault.
The police took my name. The MTA supervisor guy told Joy to take the car to Shea Stadium to the gypsies to knock out the dent that was made. Joy was skeptical about going on such a treasure hunt. We waited for all the reports to be made and insurance info exchanged. As I sat in the car with the doors open I felt pain in my neck, a slight whip lash I thought to myself. In hindsight we were luck not to be hurt after being struck by the ten ton city bus. We drove off to Bob Marley music glad to be off that corner.