So I have this little silver Honda Civic coupe, which I’ve had for a little over a year. Drives well, looks reasonably nice (though obviously not a sex machine – it’s a Honda), get good gas mileage, cheerfully takes me from Point A to Point B. I bought it new, and we get along great except, it doesn’t have a name yet and I name all my cars. No problems . . . (Cue unsettling music) . . . until this summer.
The first week of August, I was driving back to Montana (from Seattle) for vacation and I hit a deer. Though the car was driveable, it was barely so, and I limped it back to Seattle for $3500 in repairs. (The deer? DOA. RIP.) Fuck. They have the car for three weeks, I get it back all shiney and new, and the next week . . .
The second week in September, I’m involved in a multi-car rear-ender on an exit ramp from the Interstate here in Seattle. The highway patrol person hands out citations like they’re breath mints, I am at fault for my part in the accident (meaning, the damage to the back-end of the car in front of me, and the damage to the front end of my car), the guy behind me is responsible for the damage to the back end of my car, and the Honda gets towed back to the body shop for $5,500 in repairs. I am carless for almost six weeks, and I can hear my insurance rates rising. Fuck. Fuck!
I get the car back Monday of last week and on Wednesday my sister, mother and I head back to Montana on an unexpected trip for the funeral of my aunt, who died suddenly the week before. On Wednesday, I have had my car back for two fucking days. I’m driving slowly – hey, there are deer on this road, I know that! (sardonic laugh) – and keeping an eye out (or as much of one as I can after dark) . . .
BAM! I hit another deer. Having left its suicide note back in the glen and tossed back a whiskey for courage, it decided to end it all on the grill of my car. I canNOT fucking believe this! I do the funeral thing and deal with the sadness of that, ferry my sister and mom back here to Seattle and put them on planes, and take the car back to the body shop. Estimated costs of repairs: $1800.
Now, maybe I’m being too soft on myself (though truly I don’t think so), but I’m chalking this up to bad luck. To that end – and rationalizing that it couldn’t be my fault – I’ve concluded my Honda is cursed. Three wrecks in three months. Don’t get me wrong: I fully take responsibility for my part in the wreck for which I was partially at fault – the chain-reaction rear-ender. But how the hell do I keep animals from racing in front of my car when it’s travelling at 50 mph? Normally I would say “three months: three wrecks” pretty much equals “bad driver,” but what the fuck could I do?
My concern at this point is what’s going to happen to my insurance. I mean, I know “three collision [i.e., at-fault] wrecks = bad driver = cancelled policy,” but what’s the rule on “two comprehensive [i.e., no-fault] + one collision?” Does that equal “cancelled policy,” too? God, I hope not. I know my rates will (probably) go up because of the collision claim, but I’m not sure about the comprehensive claims. I hope the insurance company will understand those were not my fault – indeed, are defined as “not my fault” in the policy – but on the other hand, they’ve had to repair my car to the tune of damn near 10 grand at this point, and that’s surely going to raise a red flag.
Add to the mix is the fact that my family is a group of dedicated shit flippers so now my brother is e-mailing me pictures of enormous cattle-catcher grilles “to mount on the front of your car,” and my father has christened the car “The Deerslayer.” Oh well – at least it has a name now.
I can’t fucking believe it. Anyone know how to exorcise evil spiritws from a Honda?