I pulled over to the side as I entered Flint, in front of some government building.  No parking meter.  Cool!  I started walking in to the center of town and passed an elderly woman in front of an oddly shaped kiosk.  “Oh!” I said, “Am I supposed to pay to park?” She looked at me, correctly assessed my status as either idiot or out-of-towner, ans said dryly, “I suppose you ought to pay over there.” Indicating with a glance and a dismissive nod the identical kiosk right next to my car.

I paid and resumed my walk.  CRUNCH!!! BOOM!!! BAM!!! 100 feet in front of me, a red pickup flew spinning into the air and landed on its side.  I hurried over to see the driver being helped from his vehicle by the firemen (who were there instantly) apparently unharmed.  Locals were standing around with their cellphones filming it all and telling him he had the green light. The little sports car which had literally scooped under his passenger door and flipped him like a pancake had continued on through the intersection before stopping, its occupants seemingly also unhurt, and waiting nervously to speak with the cops.

I kept walking, stopped in a t-shirt store to get a Flint souvenir and asked where I could get a bite.  “Torch Bar and Grill, best burger in the state.” was the answer, so I went and had one.  Then I walked back to my car past the scene of the accident, which was already cleaned up.