Tuesday I was stopped in traffic on the freeway. An SUV was stopped behind me. She was hit by a guy in a mini-van. She was pushed into me, and I was pushed into the car in front of me.
This afternoon I’m driving home. Traffic came to an orderly stop (I found out later there was a collision a mile or so ahead), and I came to a stop. I looked in my rear-view mirror, as is my habit, and I saw a black Toyota Echo come to a stop behind me. I heard the screech of brakes. I looked around to see if I could find the source. I noted a silver SUV stopping behind the Echo. After about a second and a half I heard the sound of impact and saw the SUV jerk. The SUV was pushed into the Echo, and the Echo was pushed into me. When it was safe to do so I moved three lanes over to the right shoulder. A minute later the Echo pulled up, followed by the SUV. The causal vehicle (said to be a '70s or '80s Chevy or GMC pickup) – the one that rear-ended the SUV – took off.
So yeah. Not only did I get hit a second time, the causal driver was a hit-and-run.
With Tuesday’s damage, I couldn’t detect what other damage may have been done. It looks pretty much the same. The rear doors open without binding, so I don’t think there’s frame damage. At the end of the chain, much of the energy had already been dispersed. I suspect that I would have gotten away with just some scuffed paint.
Now excuse me while I go see if I can find the ‘Kick Me’ sign.
Were any of the drivers behind you using a cell phone or drinking a Starbucks at the time? Despite the Washington State law prohibiting cell phone use (except hands free), around here it’s still deliberate ignorance of the law, by cell users and the police.
Sorry for the double whammy. Definitely not wishing you third time’s a charm.
Ferndale Johnny,
Just be glad you weren’t driving through Alger Tuesday.
Is that whole scene nuts or what?
From your posts I figure you are closer to Birch Bay but travel that section of the 5 plenty.
I have never responded to one of your posts but I want to thank you.
You made a post on MMA.TV otherground that brought me here.
Peace and bacon grease, I hope you get your dents smoothed out with minimal grief.
Holla
This should probabaly be a PM but hey, I question “authoritay”.
Yeah, I’m up in Birch Bay but the office is in Seattle. I drive three days a week (two times this week because of the holiday) and telecommute two days. I drove by the aftermath in Alger and have been to that Shell station many times. (There’s a post about it ‘Several people shot in Skagit County’ or something like that.)
Nope. Must be someone else. I’ve made a couple of posts on Scott Sonnon’s site (he’s a martial artist and yoga person we shot some videos for), but under a different name that I no longer remember.
I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said that to lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose both looks like carelessness. To be rearended once may be regarded as a misfortune…
“Well, Johnny, this doesn’t look too bad. I think I can get it fixed up for you in about, oh, say 6 years? Just a bumper and a little body work after all…”
It seems I chose the wrong leg of the Trousers of Time. My boss told me to go home, but I told her I wanted to finish the file I was working on. I thought I could just whip it out this morning, but what difference will 15 minutes make?
I said to the woman (Cherokee driver) and the cop, ‘Maybe there’s a reverse image of his plate in your bumper.’ The woman said, ‘No, I wasn’t looking in my… Oh.’ The cop laughed.
Nobody got a plate number.
I talked to my insurance company today and gave them a recorded statement. Since no obvious damage was done, repairs should be covered under the insurance of the guy who hit the car that hit me. I got a call from Cherokee driver’s insurance company and they told me what she told them and asked if I agree. I told him yes.
Johnny, I’m glad you learned from the first one not to stop too close to the vehicle in front of you and that you were not injured. I used to reverse commute at the east end of I-40 and would see these almost daily, at the first and/or second traffic signal in 2,554 miles (length of I-40). I now stop at least one full car length, often two, from the stopped car in front of me. Folks beside me think I’m weird. My first (1967) Toyota became the crushed baloney in a sandwich between a big Pontiac and a bigger Lincoln whose trunk ornament got a scratch from my crushed front end.
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