June 27, 2014
Dear Everyone:
Last Saturday “Jeannie” and I got our hair done.
While we were at the hairdresser’s someone suggested a new place
to eat in Concord. We took a
look at the place, but were underwhelmed by the menu.
So we went to another place in the same location and had a lovely
lunch.
As we were leaving, I tried to back my car out of the parking space.
The car wouldn’t move.
I checked the emergency brake:
Not on. I checked the
gear: In Reverse.
I tried again, using just a little more pressure on the gas
pedal. Indeed, the car
started backing up and all was well.
Except that a group of people who were walking through the parking lot
immediately began flagging us down, pointing to the front of my car.
Not good.
You know how lots of parking spaces have a “chunk” of concrete at the
top of the space? It’s
actually called a “parking chock” and it’s there to keep the car from
accidentally going too far up onto the sidewalk.
The chock is commonly held in place with a couple of vertical
steel bars called “rebar”.
In this case, the rebar had worked loose and was coming up through the
chock. And a piece of rebar
had caught on the front
bumper of my car and, frankly, pulled it loose.
That’s what the group of people were trying to bring to my
attention.
One of them even offered to be a witness, writing down his name, phone
number and email address.
The same thing had happened to him once; and he was ready to launch a
march on the headquarters of whoever owned the shopping center as they,
in his opinion, were actually at fault.
Needless to say, the office was empty on a Saturday afternoon.
We took pictures of the car with my cell phone and “Jeannie” carefully
picked up all the little pieces of plastic clips which, presumably, were
what held the bumper in place to begin with.
Then we drove a short distance to the Concord auto dealership and
had someone take a quick look at the damage.
He pronounced that the car was perfectly safe to drive, although
a piece of plastic, which he called “some kind of
mud guard” was hanging
down under the front of the card.
On Sunday I called the
insurance company.
The claim representative, “Wendy,” assured me that I could have
the car repaired anywhere I liked, but if I wanted the insurance company
to pay for it, minus the
deductible, of course, I should choose a place
from their “network”. Then
she rattled off a list and I picked one that was near where I used to
live, so I knew I could find it.
She also said the insurance would pay for a
rental car, should
one be needed.
She was not the least bit interested in going after the shopping center
for causing the damage in the first place.
On Monday I called the repair shop and was assured that no appointment
was necessary for a first look.
So I drove down, found the place and started the process.
They took a lot of pictures, so much easier these days with
digital
cameras everywhere. Then
they looked at the calendar and said they could start work next Monday.
Did I want a rental car?
How long would it take to replace a plastic bumper?
Three days.
So I said yes to the rental car.
In the meantime, a helpful worker was told to tape the bumper in
place so it wouldn’t rattle, or anything.
He came back a moment later and announced that it was easier to
“shove it into place and hold it with a screw.”
Looks good as new.
But it’s not, of course. For
one thing, every time I back out of a parking space, that piece of
plastic “mud guard” drags on the pavement and scares the heck out of me.
I even had a woman, in yet another parking lot, come running up
to tell me that “something’s dragging under your car!”
As for the Good Samaritan who brought the whole thing to my attention, I
sent him a nice email thanking him for his kindness (I never would have
known how it happened otherwise) and assuring him that he didn’t have to
wait to hear from the insurance company.
By the middle of next week, everything will be “back to normal”.
“Jeannie” even said, “Now you have something to write about in
the next Letter.” True.
But I’d rather have skipped the whole thing.
In the meantime, I’m going to be much more careful when I pull into a
parking space from now on.
Note to Self: Stop the car
before it reaches the Bumper-Eating-Chock.
Love, as always,
Pete
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