Car in the shop

Well, my pretty little Matrix is in the body shop. No, I did not plow into the side of a semi again, I did not rear end another ambulance (medical transport vehicle actually), and I did not slam into the guard rail again. No, this was a much simpler feat. I hit a rock in the road. Don't laugh, there are some pretty good sized rocks up the mountain, and a lot of them end up on the road after three days of wet weather like we had last week.

I was driving up the hill, just minding my own business, when a car in the lane next to me (also heading up) started to drift into my lane. I did not feel like letting him drift into me, so I swerved a bit to me left, into the medium strip. This is when I heard a thunk, and felt my car lilt to the left. I pulled over and check out the damage. I saw that not only was the tire flat, but my sporty rim was also cracked.

I called my friends at Toyota of Redlands to check on getting it repaired there, without turning it in to insurance. I found out the rim itself was $445, and probably another $100 for the tire. So I turned it in to the insurance where I have a $300 deductible. Took it to the body shop, and since I was driving on a donut spare, they arranged through the insurance to get me a rental. Hope they can get it fixed before U2 this weekend, I'd like to go to the concert in my own car.

Oh, almost forgot the funniest thing. I called the insurance, and told them the whole story of swerving, and hitting the rock. One of the questions was, "Was the rock okay?" I told them that in my concern of getting my car safely off the road, I had failed to check on the condition of the rock.

Confessions of bad driver

I remember when I was young, cruising through the parking lot of any given shopping center at a speed that was probably nowhere near the posted 15MPH, with my windows down and the radio blaring WLS just as loud as could be. I would from time to time hear a voice from an older pedestrian over my shoulder, "Slow down, don't you know you're in a parking lot?" Today I was walking in the local Target center parking lot when I heard someone call out those familiar words. I looked around to realize it was me calling out to the mini-van cruising through the lot...I had become the cranky old pedestrian. I think I began slowing down in parking lots when my oldest daughter started walking. She never wanted to be carried and could never quite keep up with our walking stride, when walking to the car. It dawned on me that every parking lot was probably full of parents trying to keep the little legs moving while the child was more interested in looking at shiny gum wrappers, or the pretty flowers in the landscaping, or the cute little girl looking back at her from the shiny bumper on the vintage car she was walking past. I did not want to ever endanger one of these precious little ones, so I slowed down in parking lots.

Realizing that I had grown up from the young days of a parking lot terror I began thinking of how I drove in general. It wasn't good. I remember in my younger days very few accidents. I remembered years in my 20's and early 30's where I got the safe driver's discount on insurance. But those days seem to have slipped away. In the last ten years I've totaled no fewer than three cars, and had numerous fender benders. I've broken my wrist, collar bone and shoulder in car accidents. This is not a good track record, and I'm not sure if it is just due to getting more careless and easily distracted in my old age, or if I've just become a worse driver due to twenty years of driving the California freeways.

I have come to realize I have multiple-driving-personality disorder. It seems I am two completely different and opposite drivers, depending on where I am. In the mountain, where I live, I drive at or slightly below the speed limit (to understand my caution, read the earlier post which discusses my road rage incident). If you are behind me in the mountain, and think I'm going to slow, and decide to ride my tail, back off, I will slow down. If I'm going the speed limit, riding my tail makes me take my foot off the gas and coast. If I'm in a stretch where I feel safety requires me to go slower than the speed limit, I will pull off and let you pass, if you stay far enough back that I don't feel I'll be clipped by your passing. This is mountain driver Steve.

Down the hill, especially when I hit the highways, it's totally different. Here the roads are much straighter, and driving off the shoulder doesn't usually end in a several hundred foot drop. On the highway I consider the posted speed limit as a minimum, not a maximum (always keeping eyes out for CHP officers). I generally set my cruise control to 78 or 79MPH. The reason for this is that most of the highway speeds around me are at 65 and the cut for a ticket being an infraction rather than a misdemeanor is 15 miles over posted limit. I generally will drive in the fast lane. If someone wants to zip past me while I'm going 80 I will gladly pull over IF it doesn't mean I have to slow down to 60 for the guy in the next lane. If I can't get over with out braking, the person behind me will have to wait until I can, or he can try to fly around in the micro gap and get past me. This is downhill driver Steve.

By now I'm sure you're glad you don't live near me, so you don't have to deal with my driving. I'll admit, I'm a pain behind the wheel. And I'm sorry, but I think I've grown too old to change. Oh, if I'm in a big hurry, all of the above rules are off, just get out of my way!