Have got my car back -- it was in the workshop for two weeks after the accident. I think Thomas Harris wrote something about the way people in a neighborhood behave when passing a house where a murder has occurred: they avert their eyes, turn their faces away, act as they would if they had been betrayed by a member of their family. It sounds silly, and of course it isn’t really comparable, but for a tiny melodramatic instant yesterday I felt the same way as I approached my car. At the very least, I felt like acquaintance had to be renewed (of course, that isn’t entirely unreasonable, since the bonnet/windshield/much of the front is new!).
It was a little awkward too, driving along the same stretch of road where the accident happened. Kept feeling the urge to test my brakes by slamming down on them when I had reached 60 km/hr -- which would not have been a prudent thing to do, the road being quite traffic-heavy even on a Saturday.