Follow Up

Micah tells me that my last blog ended too abruptly. Apparently I explained that I had been in a car accident but left out all the events following. He said he was pleading the case for the avid bloggers and that I needed to give more details. Well, you already know I was in a car accident this morning. Here is what you don’t know:

After colliding with what I now know to be a dark purple Plymouth Breeze, I thought to myself (in a very loud voice for being in my head) a word I know my mother wouldn’t appreciate. I knew I was alright when I filed that word away and only let out a slightly audible “crap.” I got out of my car to check on the woman who was already walking around her Plymouth to check for damage. She looked fine, but her English was less then stellar, so I couldn't be sure. She immediately asked for a cell phone to call her husband. I told her she could have it after I called the police. Having never been in an accident before, I asked a lady who was kind enough to stop if she knew what number to call, other than 911. She said, “That’s the only emergency number I know of.” (That is funny in retrospect. We are conditioned from childhood to call 911 in any emergency. Here I have just gotten in a car accident and I ask a complete stranger for an alternate number to call since I’m not sure this qualifies in the “emergency” category.) I called 911, talked to a less than concerned dispatcher, and the police were on their way.

I was fine when I got out of the car, the woman seemed fine, and my car wasn’t terribly damaged. I was fine. That is, until I had to actually speak the words “car accident.” I’ll be honest; I cried. I immediately teared up and continued to do so all morning whenever someone asked me what had happened. (Apparently car accidents are traumatic, even if the events are mild and the damage minimum.) I gave the lady my cell phone. She called her husband, her sister, her work, etc. Once the police arrive on the scene, I learned that she suffers from panic attacks and she didn’t have her medication with her, so she wasn't doing well. An ambulance was called, and according to protocol, that means a fire truck comes too. Imagine this: two crashed cars, two police cars, one ambulance, and a fire engine all crammed in one little (and busy) roundabout. I finally got my cell back and called Micah. He was a saint and came to check on me. He sat by me while I filled out the paperwork. He also waited on hold for me. I was waiting for a supervisor from my work since company policy requires that I talk to someone, but no supervisors are required to answer their phones. Good times! I got through and told them I wouldn't be coming in at all today.

The officer was oddly impressed that I finished my paperwork so quickly and filled in all the information before turning it over to him. At first I thought he was just trying to be encouraging or considerate of my circumstances, but after waiting 15 minutes for the other lady to finish her paperwork, she handed it to him and he told her she missed the whole insurance section and all the driver information on the back side. Micah and I got to chat with the officer wihle we continued to wait. He was a good guy. Apparently his least favorite part of handling traffic accidents is all the other stupid drivers still on the road. We witness a scooter and car try to drive in between my damaged car and the police car and two other cars go the wrong way out a roundabout to get on the street we were blocking (one of which got a severe tongue lashing from the officer). Several people motioned for us to let them through, and when two semis realized they wouldn’t be able to make their turn, each of them took a hefty chunk out of a tree as they drove up on the sidewalk to find alternate routes. Surprisingly entertaining!

Unfortunately, in all traffic accidents where some violation has occurred, it is the Provo Police Department’s policy to issue a citation. Our friendly cop cited me for failure to yield. (BOO!) Now, in addition to being responsible for the initial collision, I also have to pay a ticket.

On the ride home I called Mom to let her know what had happened. (I had sufficiently calmed down so that I could speak about the morning’s events without tears.) After a brief conversation I called Farmer’s claim line and found out that the other woman had already reported the incident and little information was needed from me at all. After all that, I got back in to my pajamas, curled up on the couch to watch some movies.

Micah may consider this an abrupt ending, but all I’ve done since then is blog, and you’ve now read the fruits of my labor. My left shoulder is a bit sore and I had a headache for a while, but otherwise I seem to be in good health.