Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am

Sometimes I wonder if the Universe wants me to forfeit my driver's license. It seems that every car I've ever had has had some sort of magnetic attraction to other cars. Last night, the Aspire was added to the list.

Rosencrantz had called me at work. It seems that Guildenstern had dropped her off in Clifton so she could take care of a few things, but due to unforeseen circumstances, she wasn't able to do so. (Guildenstern had a calendar full of appointments and couldn't pick her up, so essentially she was stranded.) I volunteered to pick her up once I finished up at the office.

Since it was rush hour, we decided to take the back roads home rather than the expressway. The traffic was pretty heavy, but it allowed us plenty of time to catch up while waiting for the cars in front of us to move.

We were about fifty feet away from the intersection where I needed to turn to get to her neighborhood. Traffic had stopped again, we were chatting about my recent release from Chris and Tammy's House of Torture, and...

WHAM!!!

A driver behind us, impatient to get into the left turn lane (that didn't start for another thirty feet or so), had whipped into the safety zone, misjudged the distance in between my car and hers and clipped the Aspire, denting the hell out of the back panel, scraping the back door, and taking out the driver-side mirror.

Rosencrantz and I immediately assumed crash positions: I flipped on my hazard lights and she reached for her cell phone and called the police. "You're not at fault," she reassured me as she waited for the dispatch officer to answer. "Their insurance will cover everything."

"If they have insurance," I replied. The last time I'd been in an accident, the other driver had no insurance, and I drove with the back bumper attached by bungee cords for the next seven years.

"The car's a late model Cadillac with vanity plates," she observed. "I think chances are good that the driver's insured."

The police arrived and instructed us to both move our cars to a side street (out of rush hour traffic), and asked me and the other driver to wait in the back of his cruiser to exchange information. I grabbed my purse and slid into the back of the police car.

There's something strange and offputting about sitting in the back of a police cruiser, with the hard plastic seats and bars in the windows and the clear plastic barrier between the front and back seats. I'd never done anything that had required a visit to the back of the police car before. And from the look of things, neither had the other driver. She was an affluent older woman, wearing a fur coat. (I decided not to get on my soapbox and proselytize about how fur only looks good on its original owner. But I think I did visibly cringe.)

The woman admitted fault in the accident, although she also proved she wasn't very bright. (She told the officer that she'd been going about 30 miles per hour when she struck me, because she knew she was in a school zone. The last time I checked, the speed limit for a school zone in the state of Ohio was 20 mph during school hours. I doubt school was in session at 5:45 in the evening.) She also proved that she was a complete suck-up. As I was getting out of the cruiser, the police officer was writing up a citation for her and she was name-dropping. (She was telling him that she was on her way home from a party at so-and-so's house, insinuating that he would recognize the name. Apparently her deceased husband was a lawyer, so their social circle probably contained several people in the legal/governmental field. Being a poor-as-hell Zoo employee, I didn't recognize the name and wasn't all that impressed. The officer didn't seem to be impressed either.)

I've been on the phone all day with my claims adjuster. I should be hearing from the other driver's insurance company this weekend. Hopefully I'll be able to get the car fixed next week, since I'm on vacation and won't have to bug anyone for rides to work. While the car is drivable, I don't feel comfortable driving without the side mirror or left taillight, especially at night. This threatened to mess up my weekend plans; the NaNoWriMo Thank God It's Over party is coming up Saturday night. Thankfully one of the other writers got in touch with me and offered to pick me up. (Turns out she lives in my part of town. Small world.)

It could've been much worse. The car could've been totalled. There could have been injuries. I could be paying for the damages (or not paying for them, as I'm still paying off my hospital bill). I suppose that should make me feel better.

I'm still ticked off, though. This is not what I wanted for Christmas.