Why I can't I have something nice?

The other day, I'd parked my nice new (well, 2008 - but new to me) Toyota Prius in a student parking lot that happened to be equidistant from my office and the rec. center (where I was going to swim), and after visiting both, returned to my car (obviously in somewhat of a daze) and was just starting it up when I saw an old envelope tucked under the wiper. It read as follows:


With a sinking feeling, I got out and looked all round my car. Here is what I saw:


Sigh. I did phone "Jennifer" and she was just as apologetic on the phone as in the note (she backed into me in her giant Chevy Suburban, which, apparently, is hardly scratched) and more importantly, she has insurance. I have an appointment to get it fixed in a couple of weeks. But the bloom is off the rose...