I was driving down Adams Avenue close to the Kensington area of San Diego one day, when I noticed some guy on the sidewalk wearing a t-shirt that said "Heroes & Villains." I was trying to figure out if it was connected to the Beach Boys' "Smile" song and tried to get a better look. The next thing I know, BAM! I struck the car in front of me. Traffic had unexpectedly come to a stop along that busy road.
I got out of my car. The car I struck was a 1975 Volvo. It didn't seem to have much damage to the rear end. However, I saw was that my hood had crumpled up. There was a woman in the Volvo. She got out of her car. I then found out I had caused her to hit the car in front of her. This turned into a three-car accident. She had a cell phone and called 911. We were instructed to move our vehicles out of the road if we were able to drive them. If everyone was okay, we needed to exchange insurance information. Fortunately, it appeared that no one was injured.
While I was trying to get my car out of the road, I nearly hit three more vehicles as they were trying to drive around the accident scene. I'm surprised that no one else got their cars damaged by doing this. I was mad at myself for getting into an accident because of some guy on the sidewalk. I'll bet he doesn't even know the accident happened like it would if some woman was running around topless. I also noticed that my airbag didn't deploy, but I wasn't aware if there was a minimum amount of impact that had to take place in order to activate. At any rate, I was glad I didn't get injured by having that smack me in the head.
I was able to drive my car home. At first, I wondered what I was going to do. The accident was my fault. Even though I had full coverage, I would have to pay a $500 deductible to get my car repaired. I went down to the Daewoo dealership. They could only give me an estimate on the cost of the parts, but I would have to go to another body shop to get a full estimate of the repairs. After getting the parts list, I started thinking that maybe I could live with having a bent up car. I mean, all my other cars had major issues and I was still able to drive them. This was going to be like driving those cars. However, on the highway, I noticed that my hood was rattling around REALLY badly. I knew I couldn't live with that for the rest of my life.
I happened to live next door to a body shop. With the parts list. I was able to get an estimate from them. I don't remember the cost, but it was going to be more than $3,000. With this information, I was able to call the owner of the Volvo. She wasn't angry when I talked to her, but she did say that the Volvo, which they'd had for 25 years, had been totaled. I immediately apologized. She said it was okay and damage was minimal on the other vehicle, but it was still more than $1,000 worth of damage.
I was able to fill out the accident report and send it in. I remember accidents I'd had in the past and how they involved police. I always wound up getting a ticket, which meant I had a damaged car and had to pay even more money out of my pocket. I was relieved I didn't have to deal with that issue.
I tried to plan the repair of my car around my work schedule. I wanted to drop the car off Tuesday after work and pick it up Thursday afternoon. The body shop said it should be completed during that time. However, they called on Wednesday and said they were having trouble getting the parts in. They wouldn't have it ready on Thursday. I groaned. I had no way of getting to work at 3:30am. The buses didn't run at that time. I couldn't ask Abed to drive me to work that early in the morning. I asked Fraz if she would let me borrow her pickup for a few days. She said she would loan it to me. (She wasn't able to get around that much due to an issue with her foot.) We made arrangements that I would call her up the next day before I came over to get the vehicle.
On Thursday, I spent most of the afternoon trying to call her. She never picked up her phone. Finally, around 7pm, I got a busy signal. I figured that meant that she was home. I immediately got Abed to drive me over. Now, I was furious at this point. She hadn't said anything about being out of the house all day or that I was going to have to wait that long to come get the car. I really hoped she wasn't going to flake on me.
We got to her apartment. She was home. I knocked. "Hey, Fayd! I thought you were going to call me before you came over!" "I did call. The phone was busy. I figured you were home, so I thought I'd come over now." "Well, I don't appreciate you just showing up here!" "You said I could borrow your pickup and I have to go to work tomorrow! Can you give me the keys?" "No, I'm not going to let you just barge in like this! I'm not going to let you have the car!" "YOU PROMISED ME!" "I didn't promise!" "YES, YOU DID! YOU KNOW I NEED THAT CAR TO GO TO WORK! AND AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU, YOU OWE ME!" "I don't owe you anything!" "JUST GIVE ME THE KEYS!" "No! You get out of here of I'll call the cops!"
I didn't need to get the police involved in this, so Abed and I left. On the way back the house, I had no idea what I was going to do. Abed still did not offer to give me a ride the next day and I still did not want to ask. When we got to the apartment building, I realized I had one final chance. Our next door neighbor, Mr. H, owned a SUV. He had also recently bought a motorcycle. I could see him in his living room though his screen door. With my head hanging down, I said, "Hey, Mr. H. I need to ask a huge favor and it's okay if you say no. My car's in the shop and I can't go to work tomorrow. I was wondering if I could borrow your SUV to drive to work."
Mr. H immediately got up, grabbed his car keys and came to the door. I was so relieved. We made arrangements that I would only need to borrow the car certain days of the week. (Abed did agree to let me use his car on the weekends.) And I figured I might be able carpool with a woman I knew at work named Maurd. She lived nearby and worked the same shift, so I really only needed his vehicle two days a week at most. I just had to pay for the gas. He knew it was important that I needed to get to work.
I should point out that Mr. H used to be a drill instructor for the Marines and served in the Vietnam War. I've always seen how mean those guys are in the movies, but he was really nice and I was very fortunate that he took a chance on me. He also ran a locksmith service.
I was able to get Maurd to give me a ride a couple of days a week so I didn't have to worry about borrowing Mr. H's car all the time. But I was nervous when I drove it because I was afraid something bad would happen to it, too.
It took more than two weeks for my car to get repaired. I was so relieved to have my own car back. I felt like I was in control of my life again.
Fraz and I didn't speak to each other for more than a year.
After my car was fixed, Maurd had car troubles and I wound up having to drive her to work.
Sadly, I found out that Mr. H passed away in 2012. He was 70 years old at the time.
And as it turns out, that would not be the last time I would crumple the front end of that car. As usual, that's a story for another time.
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