bear necessity

I just came back from a great little weekend jaunt to British Columbia. But despite the fabulousness, karmic retribution is walking up my driveway with fist at the ready to knock on my door.
You see, after our all too brief stop in Vancouver to see the loveliest of ladies, Jessica and Anne, we drove the rest of the way up to Whistler where we were to spend the weekend with a group of awesome people and quite possibly the cutest little wee one (outside of my gene pool and therefore outside of my instinctual need to love them more than anybody else).
The drive wasn't particularly trecherous or onerous, and I guess cars and drivers aren't the only things to think so. Because on the drive, a black bear decided to walk onto the roadway and right in front of my car. Yes indeedy, I hit a bear...with my car.
I saw it up ahead and managed to slam on my breaks and slow down to about 10-15 mph (or 20-25 kmph since we were in Canada and they smartly do the whole metric thing), but I still hit it head on. It was probably a younger bear, an adolescent maybe.
It's a strange thing hitting a bear, I mean you can't exactly get out of the car to check on a pissed off and injured bear! But I don't think I hurt it too badly, it jumped up and ran back off into the woods. Then we pulled over and a bunch of Canadian kids came and checked on us. We were okay, just really shaken up (not stirred) and the car didn't seem too bad off, so we decided to finish driving. I spent most of the time about to cry because I HIT A BEAR.
For christ's sake, I have never even run over a squirrel and I lived in Kentucky and drove through the backwoods almost every day for two years. And we were on a busy part of the freeway. And....and....and....I feel terrible about it.