One of the main roads I take to work includes a century-old bridge. The bridge spans a small creek, and it is due for repair. Unfortunately, the construction covers all three roads in the area, so I need to find alternate – and lengthier – routes. The route I chose yesterday was one with a steep downhill, and it is always congested with traffic.
A group of cars were stopped at a red light in front of me, and I decided to be nice and allow a few cars to cross in front of me to make a tricky turn. I was stopped, listening to the radio, when it felt like a runaway train hit me from behind. No screeches, no horns, just peace and quiet… before the violent strike.
My neck flew back against the headrest, but I kept my foot on the brakes so as to not hit anyone else. I’m sure the car wasn’t traveling too fast, but it felt like the other driver was flying down the hill at 55 miles per hour. I pulled over and made sure this jackass followed me. I stepped out of the car – with my police jacket on – identified myself, told the man not to wander off, and screamed F-bombs for about thirty seconds.
You see, I was not driving my car, per se; I was driving my mother’s 2005 Jeep Liberty. Since she went into the home, we’ve had the Jeep at our house and are currently getting it transferred to us. Kyle can use my Saturn, and I will use the Jeep. I’ve been driving it for about two weeks, and someone plows into me. Awesome.
When I calmed down, I called police radio and let them know an off-duty officer was involved in an auto accident. I told them to NOT put out the call as an assist officer, because I was fine – more or less – and the other driver was not fleeing. I demanded the man’s license, registration, and insurance. I received two of the three. Guess what he didn’t have? Insurance.
The man was alone in the vehicle, probably looking at his phone when he struck me. He was also a Jamaican national, and presented a “Jamaican driver’s license,” which usually turns out to be fake. That’s specifically why I asked for a patrol officer.
The officer arrived after about a half hour – the crash occurred in a busy part of the city – and (shock) he used to work in my division. The officer looked at Bob Marley’s car (above), then at mine, and said, “Do you even have damage?” The rear bumper had a small crack, but nothing more. I swore from then on, I am always going to buy a Jeep. Those mothers are tough. Marley complained about his damage – even though he was at fault – and the officer replied, “Next time, buy a Jeep.”
So, despite the accident, and the tiny bit of damage, my head hurts, my neck hurts, and I have a splitting headache. I obviously didn’t make it to work, and today is up in the air. If I don’t feel well by 2pm, I’m staying home, but I think I’ll be good.
So, how was your weekend?