All's Well That Ends Well

So, my accident victim just called.
He is neither a fraudster nor a criminal... just a kindly older man with a somewhat loose notion of time.

I think my guardian angel must have taken pity on me: I could have smashed into one of those young guys for for whom the words "car" and "virility" are firmly entwined.
Instead, I got this nice man who explained, apologetically: "I'm not really that bothered about my car, it's just, that, well, I do really need a headlight so that I can drive it a bit longer...".
"Of course you do!" I gushed.
I am nothing if not understanding.

So we have agreed that I will simply give him a cheque to cover the worst of the damage.
And that will be the end of it. No insurance, no hassles.

"I've lived in the neighbourhood for 40 years, you know!" he told me proudly in his sing-song Toulousain accent. "I'm quite well known around here!"

I'm not really sure what that's got to do with anything, but it's nice to know.
And the kind gentleman may even get a box of chocolates with his cheque.