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While the title of this article is also the title of an excellent song by Elvis Costello, it is also the inevitable if you drive a car here in the San Gabriel Valley. As I have chronicled many times in this column we live in a hotbed of bad drivers. Despite how careful and defensive a driver you try to be it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets you.
So goes my tale of woe during this last week when my beloved Malibu LS fell victim to one of these drivers. I had bought this car when it was new and fresh off the lot in 1998 and despite a couple of minor correctable mechanical problems it ran great and served me well. It was perfect for my needs, it got my family and me where we needed to go and got us there fast, well that is when there weren’t too many obstacles in the way. But alas, last Friday fate dealt my car what would be a terminal blow.
It happened in what we locals call the T.J. Maxx center. In the maze of parking there are numerous posted stop signs including one directly out the back door of the Washington Mutual Bank. As I was passing this stop, the driver, who claims he was stopped there, decided that he had remained stopped long enough and drove forward. Unfortunately for me, and him, I didn’t have a stop and was driving past approximately 3 feet in front of him when he pulled out. Without enough time to put on my brakes or turn, I hit him on the driver’s front end with my passenger’s front end.
Even though I had my seat belt on, I had just put it on having left a parking space in front of Togo’s which was literally feet away, I hit my head on the windshield.
Despite the bump on my head and being in shock at what had just happened I got out of my car. After surveying the damage, I said to the other driver “you had a stop sign.” He looked at me with a straight face and without a pause and said, “You were going too fast!”
At first I thought I was hallucinating but then I remembered where I was, the land where stop signs don’t mean stop they mean slow down at best. I again repeated “You had a stop, and stop means stop and stay stopped until the through traffic has passed.” Again like a Mina bird he says, “You were going too fast”
Being Friday afternoon Washington Mutual was busy and luckily for me there were quite a few witnesses to the accident. After his last response, some of these witnesses almost like a Greek Chorus chanted in unison, “YOU HAD A STOP!”
As I sat back down in my car and fumbled for my cell phone two of these witnesses approached me. The first one, Tom Hertzel, who I believe said he was a minister at the Grace Baptist Church of San Gabriel, instructed me to call the Sheriffs and leave my car in its current position so they could see how it happened. Unfortunately, even though I could see the Sheriff’s Station from where I was standing, they said unless there was an injury they couldn’t send somebody. She did take my cell phone number and said she would call me back.
Tom, and my other witness, Nina Taylor, had to go but both said they would testify in my behalf and gave me their phone numbers. Thank you both for stepping up and helping me out in my time of need. Soon after they left an off duty officer came by and told me to move my car out of the way and abruptly left, but Tom had told me to leave it. Seems how Tom’s boss out ranks the Sheriff’s boss I left my car where it was. Finally, the Sheriffs Station called back and said that someone was on the way.
Sheriff Baker arrived and requested the moving of my car and I complied gladly, once she saw what Tom and I felt she needed to see. Sadly she informed us that because we were on private property she couldn’t place fault one way or another but was willing to go through the motions of asking how the accident happened. She asked the other driver to explain what he did and when he got to the part about “He was going too fast” she turned to him and said “Sir, it doesn’t matter how fast he was going, you had a stop.” He stood there shaking his head as though what he had heard was not true and it was part of some conspiracy against him.
Even though all in attendance, well with the exception of the other driver, knew at this point where the blame layed, the damage had been done. It was obvious to me that my Malibu had driven its last mile. As I was to find out later, in fact while writing this article, my car’s damages did put it in the category of being “totaled.” That means that Farmers insurance will only reimburse me for what the current Blue Book value of the car is. Which in layman’s terms means that even though I was not at fault, as far as having a car in as good of shape as the one I had just a few days ago, I am screwed.
As if this entire trauma wasn’t enough to rock anybody’s world the true punch-line to this cruel cosmic joke came into play. As the other driver and I exchanged our information he begins to fixate on my address. He then says “Oh you live next door to my mom.” Oh perfect, as if this situation wasn’t uncomfortable enough as is was.
In the meantime, Farmers has agreed to provide me with a rental car, which my wife Stacey and I went to get. As we looked at what Enterprise had to offer, me insisting that any car with four doors and a CD player will do, and my wife wanting to make sure that they gave me something equivalent to what I was used to driving. As my wife continued to wear down the Enterprise salesman he turned in desperation to a 2005 Sebring convertible.
I initially balked because it only had two doors, but my wife insisted that the kids and I would have fun with it for a few days. After thinking about it, I remembered when I was younger that my dad had a great 1963 Thunderbird convertible. It was gold with a white top and I always enjoyed it when we got to go riding in it. Then I fast forwarded to the current time and thought about how much fun it looked when my daughter Rachel was hopping into Julie Franklin’s Mustang convertible. So I thought why not. It will only be for a short period of time and it will be a nice change for a while. So I went for it.
Well my wife was right, as usual; it has been a nice change. My son Alex and I were definitely in the California mood when taking him to his baseball practice the other night. He picked the perfect soundtrack for our drive. Hotel California by The Eagles blasted from the speakers as the warm air blew around us. We both had sheepish grins on our faces as if to say to one another “This is cool.” But while it may be cool for a brief period of time it is only a passing fancy, because truth be told, I don’t really feel like me when I’m behind the wheel of this car.
While this one little bright spot in this disastrous situation was nice, it doesn’t erase the fact that it will soon stop. Which I really wished the other driver had done.
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