Yesterday, lunch time, Scott and I took 2 cars home because he had a dentist appointment in the afternoon. I headed straight home to let the dogs out and he went to pick up Chinese take-out for lunch.
There I was, minding my own business, waiting at the stoplight across the street from the entrance to our neighborhood, listening to the radio, when suddenly I heard and felt a great crash. It took my surprised brain a moment to figure out what had just happened, and then I realized that I’d just been rear-ended. The light was still red when I got out of the car to face my assailant.
I had just been hit by a Lexus SUV, and the back driver’s side bumper cover of my car was hanging off the car, threatening the tire, the tail light was mostly gone and what was left was pushed into the body of the car, now crumpled from the impact. And my bumper sticker’s ruined, too, dang it!
The driver got out of the car with an apology on her lips, explaining that her foot had slipped off the brake. “You’re BARE foot?” I asked as I observed her shoeless state. I was a little pissed. She explained, apologized again, and asked if I was okay somewhere in there as well.
I said, “Well, I suppose we should call the police,” turning back to the car to get my cell phone out of my purse, because I assumed that’s what you did when you had an accident, but she suggested just giving me her information. Having never been rear-ended before, I wasn’t sure of the protocol when neither car nor driver is incapacitated, so I said fine. While she went to get it, I took pictures of the damage to my car, to hers, and the bits and pieces scattered on the ground between the two. When she returned, walking through the debris field in her bare feet, I wrote down all the info off her license and insurance card that I thought I’d need, and gave her my card.
Looking at this picture now, I realize that she hit me harder than I thought, and pushed me past that grate, which would’ve been at least partially under my car where I was stopped before the crosswalk. The remains of my tail light no doubt start at the point of impact, where she would’ve stopped. Damn.
She was apologetic throughout, and my ire subsided. Shit happens. The funny thing was, I wasn’t having a great day, and was already in a mood. Apparently the universe was tired of my moping and decided to give me something to cry about, which only made me laugh. OF COURSE I’d end up in a car accident today. Fandamntastic!
I picked up the major shards of my bumper and tail light off the street, and she helped. I told her I’d call her the next day after I’d talked to my insurance and/or hers, and we shook hands. She was concerned enough to be willing to follow me through the intersection to make sure the car was drivable, which I appreciated, and I limped home, listening for any signs that my bumper was about to fall off or pitch dangerously close to my wheel. Fortunately, I don’t think I was hurt. My shoulder and back hurt a little, but when you’re as decrepit as I am, it’s often hard to tell what’s what.
Scott had just arrived at the house, and was rather surprised to see me pulling in after him. He gave me a puzzled look, and I just raised my eyebrows at him. He had just come around his car, catching sight of my bumper as I got out of the car.
So I told him the story, and I was surprised he hadn’t seen the accident, since he went right through that intersection on the way to the house. We ate lunch, and then I began the round of phone calls to my agent and hers, and Scott drove me back to work after lunch. The car is, I suppose, drivable in an emergency, but I don’t feel good about driving it in that state.
I have spoken to the adjustor from her insurance, and they will be taking full responsibility, as she corroborated my report. Monday morning, the car will go into the shop, and they’ll give me a rental until it’s fixed.