When someone strikes your car, and your car is parked, it is their fault. Always. Even if you parked illegally. This Blurbomat knows due to a certain incident involving a 14′ moving van and a 2001 Mercedes E 430 on Stanyan & 17th in late-September, 2001.
Blurbomat is well aware of the perils of street parking. One of the perils is that the amount of pot consumed by the people across the street is going to cause problems when it comes to navigation. Her car was hit a few months ago. She scored on the rental deal; when she dropped off the Lincoln Continental we hugged and cried as though we had lost a child.
It was only a matter of time before my luck ran out. The Lesbian Power Wagon was struck by a very bitchy woman, who, when looking at the damage, asked if we could settle it without involving insurance companies. She admitted at this time that she had some equipment and “things” in the back of her Pathfinder and couldn’t see too well out the back. I asked her if she had $2,000 plus what it would cost me to rent a car for 2 weeks at $40/day. She got quiet. She didn’t have her insurance information with her and told me I’d have to wait 5 days to get it, because she needed to call her insurance office and they’d most likely be closed. She was trying to stall. Or she was just plain stupid. I was patient. I let her stall. I let her be stupid.
Finally, after not hearing from her, I called her yesterday afternoon. She was extremely passive-aggressive about the whole thing, implying that if I’d let her just pay for it, we’d already be on our way to a fixed car. Ignoring this ploy, I got her policy number. She called me back in 5 minutes to say she needed my insurance information. I was suspect immediately. She, as you might recall, hit my parked car. I ask her if she had the number for her insurance company, so I can ask about this. She reluctantly gives it to me.
I call a 1-800 number. They are open 24/7 to take claims, as the kindly hold voice explains. When I finally get a human, it turns out they don’t need shit from me except a name, an address and a phone number to call and tell me when the adjustor is going to meet me. They then start the claim right there. I’m feeling good. They tell me I’m done and that I’ll be contacted by the appropriate people in one to two business days. I’m feeling even better than good.
This morning I get a call from the car bitch. She’s going off about how rude I was to not call her last night with my info. I explain that I’ve been busy. I make no mention that she sat on her ass for 5 days. Then I explain that when I called the insurance company to ask why they want my info, they started the claim and I gave them the information they needed.
She goes ballistic. “Well it would have been nice to know this information. I was told that by law, you have to provide me with your policy number.”
“And I was told, by your insurance company that, by law, I can opt not to give that information to them.”
She’s hit the huffing point. [Huffs]. “Well, I’m going to have to look into that.”
“You can look all you want. They told me they have everything from me they need.”
“Whatever. I’m going to have to call you back.”
I calmly hit the “END” button on the phone. I sit down. I begin writing.