October 15, 2021
Dear Everyone:
Well, this week
didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped it would.
I was enjoying not
having a lot of appointments and other obligations sending me hither and
thither all week. There were
only two meetings on my schedule:
One was the usual
weekly family Zoom meeting, which was a way for everyone to “drop in”
and touch base with everyone else, or not as the case may be.
The other was an every-other-Saturday assembly of some people who
enjoy knitting, crochet, and other Needle Arts, also via Zoom since the
public library is still closed to most meetings.
Beyond those two, my
days were free and clear. In
fact, on Wednesday afternoon, I decided to run up to a shop in Pleasant
Hill just on the spur of the moment.
Not even the fact that I still need to use a walker to get around
was going to hold me back.
Life was good.
So I was driving
north on Interstate 680, just before the Highway 242 split, when the van
in front of me suddenly slowed down.
So I also slowed down.
Then the van stopped.
So I slammed on the brakes and just missed hitting it.
I was thinking,
“Good! I didn’t hit him, so
everything is all right—”
WHAM!!!
I was slammed from
behind. The driver behind me
didn’t stop in time. Neither
did the one behind them. In
total, I believe five vehicles were involved.
I was at the head of the line.
Before I knew it, a
voice was talking to me through my car’s audio system…
“We’ve had word that
your car has been in a collision.
Are you OK?”
Huh?
The remnants of an
airbag were hanging from below the steering wheel, blocking the foot
pedals. Some kind of message
was displayed in the dash where the speedometer should be:
“…possible collision.
See your dealer.”
A California Highway
Patrol (CHP) officer was at the window, asking me questions.
When I looked in the rear view mirror, I could already see the
flashing lights of an emergency medical vehicle waiting behind the cars
behind me.
These guys were fast!
Once they were
assured that no one was significantly injured, they began moving things
out of the way of traffic.
The CHP officer was gathering driver’s license and insurance
information, the EMT was getting my name, birthdate, and type of blood
thinner. The voice in the
audio system, convinced that the appropriate authorities were taking
care of everything, signed off.
A tow truck driver
gave me his business card.
The CHP officer, having pushed my car to the side of the freeway, put me
in the back seat of his cruiser.
I called “Jeannie” on my cell phone and started with, “I’m OK.”
Never a good beginning to a conversation.
In short order, my
car was on its way to the tow service and the CHP officer took me to
“Jeannie”’s place, since we were already in Concord to begin with.
He gave me a small document with all the necessary information,
most importantly, the Incident Number.
I had “Jeannie” take
me to a car rental agency in Concord; I already knew they had a branch
in San Ramon. In a few
minutes, they put me in a mid-size sedan and “Jeannie” drove home.
Thursday was spent
logging into the insurance company’s website to begin filing a claim.
Lots of phone calls from the insurance company to me, from me to
the towing service to authorize releasing the car to the insurance
company. In the meantime,
the insurance representative set up a “reservation” for my rental car so
that the charges, up to their limit, of course, would go directly to
them.
And so on and so
forth. It looks like it will
be a while before my car gets put back together.
Another call from the insurance company to tell me that the car
will be evaluated early next week, for repair or replacement.
I expect it will be repair.
My car wasn’t nearly as squished as the one behind me.
But it may be a while
before parts can be available, what with the national “chain supply
issue” and all. Andy likes
to say that, with a rental car, just when you figure out how everything
works, it’s time to turn it back in.
I have a feeling that I may get to know this rental car fairly
well.
The important thing
is: No serious injuries.
Everything else is just an inconvenience.
No one is dropping bombs on my head.
I’m not trying to survive in Afghanistan.
But I did
accidentally leave my face mask in my car, so I’ll have to start another
one. Good thing I have a
supply of them.
Love, as always,
Pete
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