I was really tired yesterday-- the insomnia has been very high over the past two weeks-- and it was a tricky intersection.
I thought you were making a left turn, not that veer left veer right necessary to actually go straight on that straight. Which is why I went into a wide left turn on my bicycle and sideswiped you, scraping off paint all along the way.
Thanks for stopping, and deciding that the damage was no big deal. Had I been in a cage, I’d have been pissed at a three-metre long scrape from a collision. But you were very cool about the whole thing, saying it would all be polished off without any problems.
Bless you cyclists! It’s so dangerous for you sometimes. So many car drivers have no respect. When I lived in D.C., I saw TOO MANY horrific, even fatal, accidents involving cyclists and cars.
Dude that sucks. At least he was nice, though, and at least you were nice. Living in a college town, we cage-dwellers are terrorised by militant cyclists.
And for the hijack, where’d your sig quote come from. Being a market researcher, I need to steal it.
Yeah, and to the guy who cut me off, forcing me into the fence, leaving me with $2500 worth of damage to my car, while your truck was fine, thanks for admitting to the cop and/or the insurance company that it was all your fault! I finally got my car back from the shop today, and it didn’t cost me a dime. They even paid $500 for a rental car for a week and a half.
To the guy I rearended like 3 years ago. Thank you for slowly accelerating when that gate opened and you were clear to go… then coming to an abrupt halt RIGHT when I look down to get something ready for school. That was awsome of you!
A couple of weeks ago someone ran into the back of me when I was backing out & disappeared down the street, never stopping, not for a moment.
I thank them really cause I don’t know if I ran into them or they ran into me & my car is pretty old (but it has metal bumpers) & their car was recent, probably with plastic bumpers so Im sure their car felt something…
Btw, the cops said I didn’t have to file a report at all unless I wanted it for insurance & even then it would have to be more than $500.00
I hit the best guy ever. It was late at night in a deserted parking lot in downtown Rochester. I called the police and and filled out and exchange of info card (I wanted to make sure something was on file so that I couldn’t be accused of hit and run or something). When the officer got there, he was very surprised and pleased that I was honest enough to offer my info (he didn’t even say anything like “just put your phone number under his wiper, dumbass”).
And you know, I really did a number on his front corner, even though I wasn’t even going 5 mph (my car got scraped). And for whatever reason, I never heard a peep from the dude.
Barbarian, I am glad that you were not hurt and that the guy was nice about the whole thing.
I had an accident years ago when I was seventeen (two weeks before my 18th birthday.) It was New Years Eve, and the weather was pea soup, BTW, I was NOT drinking that evening. That night I dropped by a coffee shop to see some friends (where I was not supposed to be.) It was getting late and I was a little lost, but I knew the area enough to figure that when I got off the highway I’d know where I was. So, I sped onto the exit ramp, trying to merge aggressively with what appeared to be mild congestion in traffic. What I did not see was the bright red Jeep stopped dead trying to merge into traffic right in front of me.
My Dad’s car Oh, did I mention that it wasn’t my car plowed into the rear bumper of this Jeep. The fender was bent, the hood crumpled, and the passenger side door no longer opened. Also, did I mention that this car was a BMW, a late, late model; previously abused, complete with several junkyard parts, but it appears to be a Beemer nonetheless. So, two guys get out of the Jeep, and ask if I had been hurt. I was Losing My Mind in a very serious way at this point. My Dad Was Going To Kill Me. mydadwasgoingtokillme. My mind went blank except for this phrase at various speeds. Finally, I choked up an, “I’m not hurt.” (butIwillbe.) There was not a single scratch on the Jeep, so the guys tried to calm me down and eventually went on their way.
To this day I feel horrible about how I behaved. I never asked if the guys were okay. And I got off the hook with two weeks of silent treatment from my Father. (Of course, I had lied my ass off about the whole thing to him.)
SmackFu, ‘cage’ is what motorcyclists (excuse me, “bikers”) call people in cars. Since my general mode of thought is two wheels good, four wheels bad (I also drive a motorcycle, 50cc scoot, and am only in a car when really necessary) I use the term.
and Mercury, I just took that old line about lawyers and changed it to represent the most insidious evil on the block (At least you can spot the lawyers coming.)
