Thursday I got to work around 10 AM. I was already planning my evening: leave work around 8/8:30, go for a run, make myself something healthy for dinner, do some writing, go to bed at a normal hour.
At 10:30 PM it was clear we weren't going to be able to sell the ES350 we had spent the last hour trying to push out. I got in my car thinking how I could salvage my evening, and figured I could get a burrito (there goes the healthy dinner), go straight home (there goes the exercise), and write (at least one of the three).
A burrito would make everything better, because burritos are delicious, and I was in a bad mood.
I got to the taco truck nearest my home and parked in what passed for a "parking lot," but it was just a bunch of cars next to each other without much structure. I got out of my car to make sure it's situated in a place where other people can still back out - going so far as to even ask a gentleman if I'm blocking his way (to which he replied that I was not) - before going to pay for the burrito.
The employee spoke to the customers before me in Spanish before easily transitioning to English when I got to the front of the line.
"You're about to make my night," I told the employee while handing him some cash.
I was getting some sauce to put on my burrito when a gentleman announced, "whoever has the Honda Civic, someone just ran into your car!"
Well fuck. I have a Honda Civic.
I hurried over to the parking lot and saw the damage. My driver's door was caved in, and three dudes in a beat-up Nissan were about to drive off. I stood between their car and the driveway and took a good look. They hit my car, and they were just about to run.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I shouted. "You do that to my car and you're just going to fucking BOUNCE?"
So maybe this wasn't the best way to go about it. I mean, starting the conversation with an accusation is bad, and it's not like it's going to make them want to work with me to fix my car. But I had had a long day, and I was angry these people were so shameless as to damage my car and then drive off without paying any consequences.
I continued to yell, my vocabulary laced with profanities, until they finally got out of the car.
"I'm so sorry," the driver apologized.
"I'm more upset you were about to drive off than about the actual damage. I mean, I'm upset about the car too, but... whatever, I want your insurance information."
"Ahh..."
"Are you insured?"
"Yes. But this is my brother's car."
"Is your brother's car insured?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Well let's do all the insurance information. Whatever you have, let's do it."
The boys hesitated. I wasn't sure why. That's the next step, right? Trading insurance information? I took a picture of the license plate while the boys deliberated.
"We know a mechanic," the driver tried.
"No. Absolutely not. I don't have fucking time for this."
"We'll buy your car from you."
"What?"
"How much for your car?"
"It's not for sale. It's a piece of crap that's going to run another 100,000 miles. I want to fix it."
"How much for your car?"
"$5,000."
"Your car isn't worth $5,000."
"I got it appraised for $5,000; it's worth $5,000."
"We don't have the money here-"
"I don't want your money, I want your insurance infor-"
"-but we can go home and get it! It's at our home, let us go home and get it!"
"Absolutely not! I want to take my car to a body shop, see how much it costs, and bill you for the damage."
"I'm sorry, my English isn't so good. I don't understand."
At this point, it's important to note that up until now we had been conversing easily enough in English that we had no trouble understanding what the other was saying. I was so emotional, however, that I didn't focus on the stupidity of pulling the language barrier card at that time - I was focused on finding a solution.
The taco truck employee spoke both English and Spanish. He could translate.
"Well let's find someone to translate," I responded. I lightened up. I began to feel bad. Maybe they were confused about how to act after a car accident. Maybe they really didn't understand. So I motioned for them to come with me but they stayed put.
"Come on," I tried again.
Still nothing. I was back to being irritated.
"I'll help you," a man in his car said. The same man I had asked earlier if I was in his way when I parked.
So we repeat our conversation, only this time with a translator. Nothing changes.
"Hey," a man pulling out of the parking lot called me over. "If I were you, I'd call the cops."
"Really? Do I really need to do that?"
"Yeah. Because they're not going to give you their insurance information."
"That IS shady, right? They're acting shady, right?"
"Yes. Call the cops."
So I called the cops. I have never really done this before - I've never had to resort to the police. The emergency operator tells me to turn on my hazard lights. I did so.
"I'm so sorry," the driver continued to apologize.
"It's cowardly," I told him. "You were about to leave."
This is the point in the story where I wish I had been more accepting of their apologies. But I was too angry, their apologies seemed too insincere, and they were still not doing the only thing required of them at this point - giving me my insurance information.
A tow truck guy - Keith - showed up and asked what was going on. Two of the guys leave. The third told us they went to the bathroom. Bullhooey.
The third finally walked off as well, carrying a backpack. I waited another 40 minutes for the police before I finally gave up.
"Nobody has left to come meet you yet," the emergency operator said.
"I mean, I think at this point there's a legitimate crime here. They just walked away from their car. That's weird."
"That is strange. They left their car? The doors open?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. Well, I think you have all the information you need. You can just go to a police station in the morning and report it."
Fine. Fine fine fine. I was tired enough as it was. I canceled the call, went inside the car for identification purposes, and made plans to make a police report at the station in the morning. I also took a picture of an empty can of Bud Light in the passenger seat.
Going through people's cars when they're gone is illegal, apparently.
You can't take things out of another person's car. It's a felony. So when I showed the cops the license plates in the trunk that I pilfered, along with the insurance documents I took (I was going to just take a picture, but Keith told me I should just take the actual copy), they told me this was the weirdest case they'd ever seen - specifically because I had committed a major crime, not because these guys were acting so strange.
This is probably the dumbest and most entitled I've ever felt. People get in hit and runs all the time. I mean, people don't have the perpetrators offer to buy their cars and then walk away from the situation with their OPEN CAR left behind, but I am not the first - and certainly will not be the last - person to be involved in this kind of accident.
(Well, except for a few minor, strange details.)
Was I always such an angry person? Why the yelling without stopping to listen to how ridiculous the boys in front of me were being? Is this a new development? Why can't I be calmer? I see flashes of my mother shouting at airline employees when we were kicked off a three-hour delayed flight because there wasn't enough room to the point that they threatened security, and I wonder about the role genetics plays in how we respond to stressful situations.
Next time, I need to take a breath and consider the situation. Calm is always always always better - because calm allows you to make the more rational and smarter decision.
My mom has told me multiple times that I could have gotten myself killed that night, and that I need to watch my temper. I agree with the second half of the sentence, but I don't think those boys were going to hurt me. They were idiots, out for a drunken munchie stop at a taco truck, not giving a single thought to why driving drunk is illegal.
Thursday was exhausting from start to finish, but for right now I'm in a Nissan Altima rental, which is sweet because it comes with automatic locks and windows, and I feel like a freaking Rockefeller driving that thing around. The body shop can take its time with my car. I'll be just fine.
I really like those burritos, man. I hope I can muster the wherewithal to return some time soon.
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