Car Trouble in Paradise

Living in Texas, I held a pretty clean driving record minus a few close calls. I was pulled over for speeding once, and rightfully so, but despite an unexplained gun in the glove compartment, the officer let me go with a warning. This I attribute to the irrepressible, heavy, southern accent that I brusquely developed out of nowhere. Oh, and then there was an incident involving some unfortunate scrapage to the passenger side door of my 2000 Toyota Celica, which was caused by a ginormous yellow pole that supported a poorly designed parking garage built for Micro Machines. Other than that, I was a golden adolescent driver. However, since moving to California, I’ve had less than spectacular luck as far as my car goes. As it is, I’ve lived in San Diego for a year and a half and can count a total of 6 incidents where my car has been injured.

Incident 1:

I moved to San Diego in September of 2007. By December my car was in shambles. I hadn't even escaped my work parking lot when I was rear ended by a giant German man, who more than likely learned to drive on the Autobahn, and thus thought it acceptable to take corners at 40 mph in a parking lot. And although he was helpful in scotch-taping my bumper back to the body of my new sedan, he stood firm in his belief that I was at fault and somehow I ended up paying half my required deductible to get it repaired. I do not like the giant German man, but I still like German Chocolate Cake.

Incident 2:

This one occurred when an angry male left a fist print in the hood of my car. I don’t recall when, where or why this happened, but I’m pretty sure it ensued my status as a single woman.

Incident 3:

It was a hot summers day and I was helping a friend move. My trunk was filled with mirrors, picture frames and other fragile items that hang on walls and look pretty. As I exited the freeway, I slammed on my breaks to avoid hitting the car in front of me, but the man behind me had no such luck. Instead he rammed me at 45 mph. My Nigerian assailant seemed less than apologetic, but nevertheless handed over all of his information including his phone number, address and insurance card, which I later discovered to be 6 months expired. I’m still stalking and threatening him but no longer regret refusing him a ride to a payphone to have his lifeless car towed!

(Side note):
$500 and a few weeks later my car was fixed and I was visiting the chiropractor 3 times a week. After an hour-long photo shoot featuring my backbones, the doctor posted my x-rays and proclaimed that in all his 10 years of practice and his colleague’s 25, neither had ever seen a spine like mine. I was flattered for close to 3 seconds, until he told me that wasn’t a good thing. To my dismay, my spine was not superior to that of the rest of the world. Rather it was lacking in any curve whatsoever - this would explain why people have always complemented my good posture, but apparently does not bode well for my future as a human. Being the skeptic that I am, I told him I wanted a second opinion and never went back. I’m still trying to get my back to feel normal.

Incident 4:

It was 2:30am when I heard a car alarm blaring outside. I didn’t recognize it at first since I’ve never heard the thing, but it turned out to be mine. I silenced it and peered out my kitchen window like the spy that I wasn't until I convinced myself the culprit was a curious cat. However, the next morning as I approached my car I noticed several things strewn about in the middle of the street… lotion, makeup, feminine products … all leading towards a puddle of tinted glass that came from my passenger side window. I made a police report, paid $250 to get my window fixed and went about my business. I got a call later that day letting me know that although the police lost the thief in a car chase, they did find the stolen truck, abandoned and full of untouched merchandise. I got back everything except my vulnerabilty and bag of clothes. My only guess is that he’s been dressing in drag ever since. I didn’t care about either of the bags. I would have gladly handed them over had he simply knocked on my front door and asked. It would have saved me the $250. This was the point when I decided to place post-it notes on my windows when leaving my car unattended that read, “I’m open! Come on in ☺ No need to break the windows,” and, “Wait here, my owner will be back to give you what you want out of me shortly.” So far, so good.

Incident 5:

I was backing out of a narrow driveway. My passenger side mirror hit a pole and fell off.

Incident 6:

On a voyage home from the gym and looking forward to a wig-party later that night, I attempted to merge into a turn lane and was blasted by the truck beside me. I climbed out the passenger side door after realizing the driver's side was lodged shut and met an angry driver who asked me what I was doing. When I said merging, she answered, “We don’t do that here!” Confused I responded, “You don’t merge here? Well, I’m from Texas and when we Texans need to switch lanes we just turn on our blinkers and the next good Texan lets us over. I guess I’m just accustomed to a little Southern hospitality, whereas you may never have heard the term. Maybe I can explain it to you a little slower…” I called the police so they could assess the situation and decide fault, since this chick was clearly not taking any. I dialed 911 and it rang 15 times before I finally hung up. I flagged down a CHiP (California Highway Patrol) who had pulled someone over in an adjacent parking lot, but he told me there was nothing he could do. We exchanged information; I climbed back in my passenger side door and drove home. In the end the girl lied about what happened at the scene, which left me responsible for 80% of my deductible. My car was in the shop for nearly a month and I was forced to drive something very similar to what you might see in Toon Town. I am currently on the hunt for this girl as well. She has some “splainin” to do.

My name is Susan and I’m a recovering accident victim. It’s been 3 and a half months since I was in my last accident. For now things are calm, but I fear it is the calm before the storm. Either California drivers are really gnarly, or my car is cursed. To prove my theory that its not my car and that California drivers really are abominable, I’ve decided to sell my beautiful sedan. Any takers?