A few weeks ago, I was tooling down the main street of our little suburban town in my new MINI Cooper when a businessman late for an appointment pulled away from the curb and hit me. It wasn’t a bad hit, but contact was made, and I jumped out of the front seat foaming at the mouth yelling, “THIS CAR IS TWO MONTHS OLD!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” as if that made any sense at all. He shrugged apologetically and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” I actually believe him because my MINI is a little chip of a thing, and I’ve discovered after two months of ownership that other drivers don’t seem to register my presence on the road. They’ll start to crowd my lane because I don’t take up the whole space, and when I give them a gentle beep to remind them I’m there, they flip me the bird. I strongly believe that middle-aged people should not be giving each other the finger. It’s unseemly.
I asked the businessman if we needed to call the police for a fender-bender like this when they could be of better use somewhere else arresting shoplifters or drug dealers. He assured me he was a stand-up citizen and would definitely report to the insurance company that he was at fault. My hunch told me this was correct since he was driving a company car and his personal insurance wouldn’t be affected. We exchanged information and I called my insurance company right there to say I’d been hit. As Mr. Businessman waved and drove off, the customer service rep asked if I’d called the police. I said no, the other driver just left, but I had all his information. She said, “YOU LET HIM LEAVE?” I assured her that this was a karma thing; people have to start trusting each other. If they don’t, we wind up with the kind of world we have. “Oh, God!” she gasped, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
When I went to their office later in the day to fill out the paperwork, everyone turned to look at me as I walked to the claims department. There must have already been a memo. Maybe they were even filming me for a future team building workshop: How to Handle the Demented Driver. The claims lady from the phone call smiled at me passively, like Come sit your karmic ass down over here. I said, “Look, I understand this may not turn out well, but I had a feeling about this person and he promised he’d call his agent and report it. I think sometimes you just have to go with your gut, right? Shouldn’t we all try and think the best of our fellow human beings?” She nodded and got up to get something off the printer, but I think she was just afraid I’d start singing Kumbaya.
The businessman’s insurance company called me the next week and said to take my car for an estimate and fax it over to them. The total came in under $500. About ten days later, I called my own claims lady to tell her I’d received a check from the other driver’s insurance for the full amount.
CLAIMS: What are you saying? They sent you a check? THEY – the other insurance company sent YOU – the other driver a check? They never send checks directly to the insured. It isn’t possible.
OSV: I have it right here. I just made an appointment with the body shop. They said I’ll need to leave the car overnight.
CLAIMS: Then you’ll have to pay for a rental.
OSV: Nope. I told the claims rep it would be about $80 for a rental and they cut me a second check. I have them both.
CLAIMS: (stuttering) Th-they sent you $80 because you said that’s what you needed? Just like that? They never contacted us at all. Not once. Th-this is unheard of.
I haven’t decided who I want to play me when the Hallmark Channel makes this into a movie, but I’ve already picked the music. I don’t know what the film’s title will be, but if my insurance company has any say, it’ll air around Christmas and have the word Miracle in it.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos provide Translation
Dumbass, I am Batman!
obama? joker?
secret
awwww
dare