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April 13, 2006

We can't have nice things...

So, my tale begins on December, 28th, 2005.
I am off work on Vacation for the week. My wife is still going in, because she really can't get vacation at that time of year.

I'm sitting at home tooling around the IntArWeB, when she calls me. Honey, she says, I've been rear-ended.

The details are thus: she's driving home on the LBJ, like she does every day. Traffic comes to a complete stop, like it does every day. The person behind her does not come to a complete stop. Apparently, not even close. He's completely knocked the rear bumper off the car, and bent the body panels and trunk, and done some other damage.

And then the kicker:

• The driver of the vehicle does not speak a heck of a lot of English.
  
• The driver of the offending vehicle does not have insurance.
  
• The driver of the offending vehicle does not appear to have a driver's license.
  

He calls his brother-in-law to come play translator. My wife calls me to come deal with it. I call the police and report the accident and that the driver has no insurance. Give the location of the accident, get in my car and go.

So I get there. The Dispatch operator for the police has advised me to keep the other parties at the scene. They do not want to involve my insurance company, let alone the police. They're offering to pay for the repairs, etc. I'm doing everything I can to stall them. Taking copious notes, getting licence plate and VIN number from offending vehicle, playing up the language barrier, etc. I tell them I'll get a couple of estimates and call them. I know we have a working phone number for them, because the driver called his brother-in-law from our cell phone. I've kept them there for over an hour. No police officer. I finally can't stall them any more, and the show up. Then the police show up about 5 minutes later, after the officer calls to say he's been given apparently incorrect information by dispatch, and could we kindly tell him where we are.

He gets there, and so much not-help. He's in a hurry to get off the shoulder of a busy highway as it's getting colder and darker. Without the other parties still on-scene, there's nothing he can do about it. Doesn't even write a police report.

When I get home and look more closely at the damage, I realize the car is totalled. It's a 1997 Dodge Neon with over 100,000 miles on it. Unibody Construction (which means the Sheet Metal body-panels are, in effect, the frame), and both the body panels are damaged. I call my insurance company. They send out an appraiser and yup - car is totalled. My only consolation is that the other guy's car is also most likely totalled.

So we buy a new car with the 'proceeds' of the old car (such as they are). A shiny Sunburst Metallic Orange 2006 Chevy HHR LT.. We custom build and order the exact vehicle we want. It takes 7 Weeks from the date of order to receive it, but on 02/17/2006, we drive our car off the lot. The Odometer reads 8 miles.

It's very nice. Steers like a dream. Wonderful radio. Comfy. Plenty Roomy. More room than I expected. A six-foot tall person might find headroom a bit cramped in the driver's seat, but at 5' 10", It's just about right for me.

And we drive for a few weeks. Fast forward to March 23rd - Thirty-Nine days later. On the way to work, traffic is a bit congested. We're zipping along in the H-O-V lane when traffic slows considerably, and a bunch of people in the neighboring lane are diving into the H-O-V. And then I see the flashing-lights. Apparently there's been an accident in the left-lane and people are going around it. All four lanes of traffic are coming to a halt. So I stop. The guy behind me doesn't.

One-Thousand Seven-Hundred Seventy-Three miles, and we're in our first accident. I haven't even received my new insurance card in the mail from my carrier. I've just barely put the licence plate on the car. So I get out and ask the driver for his insurance information, and the first word he says to me are 'Why did you Stop?!' (in very poor English, I might add). My response was a very civilized 'Because the person in front of me stopped, trying to avoid the accident.' I wanted to scream 'It doesn't matter you stupid-f$ck. You just hit my brand-f$cking-new Car!' I walk away from him for a second, and call my insurance company to find out my policy information so I can share with this guy. The Polie officer already on scene for the existing accident comes over and asks if we exchanged information. I said 'not yet. I'm working on it, but he seems a bit unwilling.' So the officer tells this guy how it's going to be. 'You hit him in the back. It doesn't matter why. Give him your insurance information.' So the driver does. We go on our merry way. Oh, no police report, either.

Now, I notice as I'm copying down the guy's insurance info that his policy expired at 12:01 am that very morning. I'm not worried, though. He probably just hasn't put his new card in the vehicle. I mean, I know I'm bad about that.

So I go home and call his company to start the claim process, and it turns out, his policy is, in fact, expired, and has not been renewed. A few choice expletives come out of my mouth as I explain to the nice insurance lady that I'm not mad at her, I'm just pissed, and explain about exactly how we came to be in possession of a brand new Chevy HHR. She understands. She calls his agent to see if maybe he has renewed, but the paperwork just hasn't been sent in. No such luck. So I call my insurance company and file another uninsured motorist claim. My second in 4 months.

The damage isn't extensive, but it is fairly expensive. Expensive enough that it's worth filing as an insurance claim.

And now we come to today, April 13th, 2006. I still haven't had the HHR repaired - waiting on the insurance check to arrive. It's been 'in the mail' since March 28th. If it's not here on Monday, April 17th, they are going to issue a stop-payment and overnight a new check.

But that's not the real kicker. This morning, as I drove in to work, the very Earth itself attacked my new car. A piece of concrete roughly the size of Rhode Island is in the middle of the road. I see it just as soon as the car in front of me clears it. I try to avoid it, but can't. Ker-Thud!, K-thmp, K-thmp, K-thmp. A flat tire. I pull over to change the tire and check out the damage.

After changing the tire I call the City and tell them about the presence of this small state in the middle of their road. They indicate they're sending out a road-crew, and will mail me a damage claim form. This, at least, sound good, though I'm sure that they'll ultimately find some way to screw me with it.

Take the car to the dealer to get new tires and get an estimate on the body damage. Added to the existing estimate from the previous collision, and all told, I have to do over $3000 dollars worth of body work on my brand new car within the first 2 months/3000 miles of ownership.

Thus, we apparently cannot have nice things.

Posted by Shannon on April 13, 2006 11:31 AM

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Posted by: Lys at April 17, 2006 9:03 AM

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