Fender Benders are Scary

So my fifteen year old son calls me at work........much like he does every day. Only today he called to report that he'd been in a minor car accident.
"Mom! Hey."
"Hi baby." At this point I usually wait to see what he's asking permission for. Although I didn't catch it until later, he usually calls me Mommy when he's wanting something or being affectionate.
"Hey. Um, Mom, I been in a car wreck."
Ok, that is NOT what I was wanting nor expecting to hear. This is the part of 'letting go' that I do not care for one bit.
He's talking to me so he obviously is OK, but I ask him anyway. He could be in the ambulance with a cell phone to his ear while paramedics work on a smashed leg............who knows.........moms get day-mares like this, you know. The floor drops out from underneath a mother and the whole world goes away while things like this are occurring to us.
"Yea Mom I'm good, we are all ok....this guy just slammed on his brakes and we bumped him. But I wanted to call you and tell you, and can you call the girls to tell them?"
So we finish talking and hang up. He calls back just a minute or two later telling me that since he's a minor I have to come and get him from the scene. They are in a local suburb near our home. When I get there, I'm expecting to see a car or two and a police officer. Unfortunately for me, the first thing I see is the ambulance in the middle of the road, lights flashing. Here goes another attack of the mother day-mare syndrome. I also see neighbors milling about, and I have to stop because one very old grandfather is trying to keep up with his 6 year old grandchild, whom he must be taking down the road to get a close-up view of all the action. The six year old is all over the place and I have to slow down to keep from hitting him. It's aggravating. I'm trying to get to my kid, after all, to make sure that he's not in that ambulance, despite what he told me over the phone. Kids DO lie on occasion, you know. There are several civilian vehicles parked all over the place, making it hard for me to find a place to park.
Then, mericifully, a gaggle of teens on a lawn comes onto view, along with three cop cars and all the bodies that go with them. My beautiful little boy is among them, laughing nervously about the puddle of red Slushie that now decorates his pants. However, he's a little pale, and when they get closer, I can tell immediately just by the look on their faces who was in the car. I'm assured by the officer that it was, in fact, all minor. He shows me the car they hit and explains that the man who got hit is being taken in the ambulance because he is complaining of neck pain. (Of course.) I guess I looked a little pale, myself, because he patted me on the back. The mother of the other two children in the care and I take a moment to talk and I take my sticky, shaken child home. And we talk. I don't lecture, I don't necessarily I-Told-You-So, but I want to make sure he learns a valuable lesson from the incident. I make sure he knows how lucky he is that this is the way he got his lesson instead of something much worse. Since it was relatively minor, I take the opportunity to explain car insurance, fault, and driving politics to my son. I pray that he gained more respect for a vehicle and the safety of others than he might have already had.
As with every other time it happens, I also pray that this is the last mother day-mare I have. Since my children are only half-grown, I don't think this is going to be the case. But, I can pray that they are never very serious, and that's the prayer that's most important.