When you pull forward to a stop sign...

and stop so that you can see over the hill to your left before you pull out into traffic, and the man behind you thinks that like everyone else in that county you are actually treating the stop sign as a yield and he anticipates that you are going right through the stop sign because he does not see the white truck coming over the hill either, this is what happens:

When you have first moved into your house in the cul-de-sac, ten years ago, and are still learning to navigate the awfully long driveway in your relatively new minivan, and you think proudly that you can not only back up down the awfully long driveway but that you can also back up to your mailbox; however, you inconveniently forget that your neighbors have a mailbox too, this is what happens:

So when your fault of ten years ago meets another's fault from last week, this is the result:

New dent meet old dent. May you co-exist peacefully and bring no others of your ilk to my bumper and tailgate.

As for the minivan occupants involved, none were harmed in the birth of the new dent. That is all.