One year ago today I bought my car.
Exciting, I know.
Today I got a car wash in celebration of a fantastic first year together, then lamented at the paint-cracked, scratched rear bumper from my hit-and-run.
I never told you about that, did I?
I headed home for the evening January 16, all excited to have a girly evening, involving the fantastic Leah Jacobs doing my hairs for me. I almost hate that there is something so wonderful about the feeling of being pampered and sprucing up with a little cut/color. Silly money-wasting things like this should not feel so blasted fantastic! To make the evening even better, I always pick us up some dinner for us, which requires commuting a different direction than normal.
Murray State Street during rush hour can make you feel as if you are a chess piece on a board with three times as many pieces as there should be, shuffled against your will in a general direction by an unseen hand. With my destination in sight, I pulled up one-car's length behind the car in front of me at a stop light, as per proper-driving rules. Yes, I'm a law-abiding driver to a fault.
Before I could realize what was happening, I found myself slamming on my brakes, my gym bag flying off the seat, and my head flipping backwards into the headrest. There is a moment of panic no one can quite describe in a situation like that. To say I was an idiot is mild. I put my car in park and got out in the middle of four rush-hour lanes of traffic. The scruffy young riff-raff who hit me did the same.
His license plate dangled from one overly-jagged screw on his ghetto early-90s tan compact truck. My little blue Honda was covered in winter salt and sludge, but I could clearly see the cracked paint, the outline of a license plate, and two screw-punctures exactly where his license plate met my bumper. He smiled and said, "Well, there's no damage, so I'm fine if you're fine!"
"Umm...there actually is damage."
"Really? I don't see any?"
"Umm..yes there is, right here. (I gesture to the two holes and the scratches as I try to brush off the grime)."
"Oh, okay, so you wanna pull over into that parking lot right there and get information?"
As I looked down at his license plate to memorize the digits thinking that I'd be an idiot not to, I responded, "Yeah...yeah...we're gonna have to do that."
Riff-Raff got back in his truck with his tattered clothes and equally bedraggled looking company. I signaled to turn left, made sure he was behind me, then turned. Would you believe that as soon as I turned left, he took off? Yep. And would you believe that in my panic I forgot all but the first three digits of his plate?
Lesson learned. My estimate for the damage is only $600, which isn't even worth submitting to the insurance, but it it the principle of the thing, you know? Knowing what I know about insurance, I would have, in all likelihood, let that scraggly young man go if he'd have let me know his situation instead of dishonestly running off.
I'm a big believer in the Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would have others do to you." All I can do is shrug my shoulders and keep smiling. C'est la vie!
Exciting, I know.
Today I got a car wash in celebration of a fantastic first year together, then lamented at the paint-cracked, scratched rear bumper from my hit-and-run.
I never told you about that, did I?
I headed home for the evening January 16, all excited to have a girly evening, involving the fantastic Leah Jacobs doing my hairs for me. I almost hate that there is something so wonderful about the feeling of being pampered and sprucing up with a little cut/color. Silly money-wasting things like this should not feel so blasted fantastic! To make the evening even better, I always pick us up some dinner for us, which requires commuting a different direction than normal.
Murray State Street during rush hour can make you feel as if you are a chess piece on a board with three times as many pieces as there should be, shuffled against your will in a general direction by an unseen hand. With my destination in sight, I pulled up one-car's length behind the car in front of me at a stop light, as per proper-driving rules. Yes, I'm a law-abiding driver to a fault.
Before I could realize what was happening, I found myself slamming on my brakes, my gym bag flying off the seat, and my head flipping backwards into the headrest. There is a moment of panic no one can quite describe in a situation like that. To say I was an idiot is mild. I put my car in park and got out in the middle of four rush-hour lanes of traffic. The scruffy young riff-raff who hit me did the same.
His license plate dangled from one overly-jagged screw on his ghetto early-90s tan compact truck. My little blue Honda was covered in winter salt and sludge, but I could clearly see the cracked paint, the outline of a license plate, and two screw-punctures exactly where his license plate met my bumper. He smiled and said, "Well, there's no damage, so I'm fine if you're fine!"
"Umm...there actually is damage."
"Really? I don't see any?"
"Umm..yes there is, right here. (I gesture to the two holes and the scratches as I try to brush off the grime)."
"Oh, okay, so you wanna pull over into that parking lot right there and get information?"
As I looked down at his license plate to memorize the digits thinking that I'd be an idiot not to, I responded, "Yeah...yeah...we're gonna have to do that."
Riff-Raff got back in his truck with his tattered clothes and equally bedraggled looking company. I signaled to turn left, made sure he was behind me, then turned. Would you believe that as soon as I turned left, he took off? Yep. And would you believe that in my panic I forgot all but the first three digits of his plate?
Lesson learned. My estimate for the damage is only $600, which isn't even worth submitting to the insurance, but it it the principle of the thing, you know? Knowing what I know about insurance, I would have, in all likelihood, let that scraggly young man go if he'd have let me know his situation instead of dishonestly running off.
I'm a big believer in the Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would have others do to you." All I can do is shrug my shoulders and keep smiling. C'est la vie!
1 comment:
Dang, that sucks! First thing I'm going to do if I'm in an accident (and we all should probably do) is take a picture on my phone of their license plate. Just in case.
Post a Comment