Sorry it's taken so long for me to tell you about Mom's wreck, but it was two weeks of stress after which I needed to get my own life back and schedule and recuperate. Quite frankly, I haven't much felt like talking about cars or car wrecks.
One Monday afternoon, Mom called. Her dog was acting funny, and she didn't know what to do. I suggested, since it was late in the day, she call the vet to tell them she was coming and not to close and then head over there. I then waited to hear back from her about her dog. I waited. I waited some more. It seemed to be taking a long time.
Finally, Mom called back. She sounded really upset, so I thought the worst about her dog. When she calmed down enough to make sense, she told me she'd had a wreck. It took ages to get the details of what had happened out of her, because she was understandably very upset.
She'd been driving down the street she lives on and a handful of blocks from the house when some guy in a truck ran a stop sign, bashed into her rear wheel well and wheel, spinning her around. He then drove her and her dog home in her car with a screwed up axle and gave her his insurance. Yup, no cops were called. Insurance companies weren't called on the spot. No photos of the scene taken. Mom, who has a cell phone paid for by us specifically for use during a crisis, didn't even call me from the scene. If she had, the cops and insurance would have been called, and no one would have gone anywhere until a report was filed. Naturally, the guy who was going home from visiting his dad, driving on a street he's driven probably a thousand times before, who ran a stop sign that has been there forever going fast enough to spin a Camry around and destroy the axle, well he promised to make everything better and get the car fixed.
As I'm getting the story of what happened, the vet came to pick up the dog.
Since it's really late in the day, Mom is tired and freaked out about both her dog and her car, I tell her to eat something and try to rest, and then told her to call his insurance company first thing in the morning. Hers too, just so they know … just in case. I hang up and begin panicking. So glad Mom wasn't injured at all, but this sounded like a mess in the making. I mean, the guy that hit her wasn't some teenager who doesn't know how wrecks work. He's a college educated full-on adult who shuffled my mom on home and away from the scene of the CRIME while telling her he'd fix it all and laying on the hard luck stories about his kids and rent and whatnot, in order to save himself a ticket. I fully expected his insurance to be invalid.
Mom called both insurance companies bright and early the next morning. They'd already both been informed. Yeah, his insurance was good. Not that it really made anything too much better, because after seeing photos of the car, I knew the outcome was most likely to be it being declared totaled, and the insurance settlement was never going to be enough to replace the car with an equally good car. I tried to ease Mom into the idea that her car was toast.
Meanwhile, the vet brings the dog back with a supply of painkillers. They can't find anything specifically wrong. Pixie is just old. Really old for a small dog.
Then began days of back and forth with the insurance adjuster. I won't impugn the reputation of all insurance adjusters, because I'm sure some of them are nice people, but this guy was a jackass. I mean, he popped out of the gate being a jackass and only got worse. I let Mom handle him at first, because she needs to keep doing things for herself and is capable, but eventually I took over communications. She's just not capable of being a hard nosed bitch when necessary, and she has a tendency to defer to men as the authority on all matters even when it isn't to her benefit.
The adjuster came back with their offer fairly quickly, and I was surprised it was almost five thousand dollars. I was not surprised her 1994 Camry was declared a dead car. We had her mechanic come out and look at it just to be sure, and he agreed. Her car was now a lump of useless metal. Mom was very sad, because she loved her car very much, and even though it was old, it was an awesome car in awesome shape. Five thousand dollars wasn't going to get another low mileage, garage kept, impeccably maintained car of any vintage. We are all in full panic mode at this point.
I began looking for cars, but Mom didn't want a car from Austin. I don't know why. I guess all us godless liberal heathens over here have cooties or ruin our cars merely by living in Austin. She insisted it had to come from her small town, so I narrowed my search to just there. Whatever makes Mom happy. She's the one who has to pay for it, and at least if it's bought there and there's a problem, she can drive her own self over there to complain about it. Well, in such a small pool of car lots, there's not a lot of cars to choose from. I do managed to find three potential candidates.
Now I need the check from the insurance company. Like now. Well, the adjuster continues to be a jackass. I make one final call to him, and I inform him in no uncertain terms that unless there is a check in my Mom's hands on Monday, lawyers will be involved and we will not take their offer which was more generous than expected but not as much as I was certain I could aquire with legal help. Our family lawyer agreed with my assessment on this matter, so I wasn't talking out of my ass. But going to lawyer route is a long path, and there are no guarantees. Mom couldn't be without a car that long, I couldn't drive back and forth every week to take her places, and in the end we might not have ended up with all that much more, so even though I knew we were getting screwed, getting screwed quickly so we could move on to the car buying was tenbest course of action. Me doing all that driving for six months to a year while a lawsuit sorted itself would have cost a LOT too. So I really dig into him, and finally he agreed to have the check there on Monday.
Monday comes and I head to Mom's and arrive just in time for lunch. Shortly thereafter, the adjuster arrives. I finally get to see what this guy looks like. Well, he's a walking talking caricature of a Texan. Western Texas flag shirt with white pearl buttons, spit shined pointy toed boots with gold toe and heel caps, leather tooled belt with a giant gold scrollwork buckle, and perfectly aqua gelled hair. His outfit matched his thick Dallas accent. I had to stifle a laugh. But who cares what he looks like, he had the check. We sat at the dining table, and oddly, the only paper Mom needed to sign was the title transfer power of attorney. No lengthy pile of legal documents informing us we couldn't sue and this was the end of their business with us. I'm not sure what that was about, but it did leave an interesting opening. Anyway, he was amazed at how fast we were moving on getting a new car. Well, duh. Mom doesn't have a car, and I don't live there. She needs a car. Like right now. Immediately.
We shuffled him out the door, and then we went car shopping. First stop had two of the contenders. A brand new Spark and a not terribly old Impala. Mom immediately poo pooed the economy car as being too small, as I knew she would, but I had to try. LOL! She did like the Impala, so we took it out for a test drive. It drove nice and the engine sounded nice and it was in good physical shape. By the time we got back to the lot, Mom wanted it. Only problem was the check engine light was on, and no, I'm not buying a car that's already displaying a problem. The dealership said they'd look it over and figure out the problem. We went grocery shopping and agreed to come back in an hour to finish the deal (maybe).
When we got back, they were still fussing with the car. Mom was super tired (so was I), so we told them we'd be back first thing in the morning. It was dark when we got back to the house, so we ate dinner and went to bed. Well Mom went to bed. I stayed up to see what I could find out about the car in question and to line up some other possible contenders for Mom's next car in case this one fell through. At some point I passed out with my iPad in my lap.
Bright and early the next morning, we headed back to the lot. I wasn't at all sure we would be getting that car, and I went in adversarial. Sorry, but I don't trust car salesmen, even if I sort of know them personally. It's a commission job, and even a good person will fail to share important information when they want a paycheck. There had already been a couple of questions not answered completely honestly and one not answered at all. I was wary (and weary), so I engaged my hard nosed bitch mode again. After a little back and forth with the salesman, my questions were answered, the car had been fixed, promises were made, and we agreed to buy the car. I even managed to talk them down a bit more on the price.
Then we moved on to talking with the financial officer. Ugh. By this point, I was full on cranky. When she came out with monthly payment well beyond what we were told to expect, I just said NO. Turns out she'd added an extended warranty thing to it without asking. Didn't want to take it off until I said the deal was off if she didn't. Just noooooo to the extended warranty bullshit. It's always a scam, and in this case it was $50 a month. Finally got that all squared away, the papers were signed, and the salesman took Mom out to the car to show her where all the buttons and doodads are and how to use them.
Mom and I went to lunch afterward, and then I took her out to the park to drive around a while. She was freaking out about driving. I get it. She'd just had a serious wreck, her favorite car was destroyed, and now she's got this really new, rather fancy newer car with all kinds of gadgets in it. She got comfortable enough with it that she wanted to drive home, but she only made it as far as the gas station. We filled it up and I drove the rest of the way. Then we sat around her house for a couple of hours trying to relax. I headed home later than I would have liked and had a hell drive home.
Meanwhile, through all this, the dog was on painkillers and basically just lying on the couch oblivious.
So Mom has had the car long enough to figure out how to get it into the garage and she's started going to stores and stuff again. She's still not sure she likes the car, and she keeps expecting it to break down at any moment. While I'm not pleased with the fact some dumbass destroyed her prior car and now she's out some many thousands of dollars and her favorite car, I like the new car well enough and trust it. It's bigger and nicer than her prior car, and to be honest, we got a good deal on it. It's just going to take a while for her to get used to the differences. I don't recall, but I'm sure we went through this when she bought the Camry too.
We still don't know what's wrong with the dog. She's doing a little better though and is being weaned off the painkillers to see what happens. She's just an old dog, and I suspect she's not long for the world. I'm just glad we didn't have to go through that grief and sadness in the middle of the car crisis. It really would have been too much. Once Mom has settled back into normal daily and driving life, I suspect she'll follow through on her decision to let the dog go. Yes, it's sad, but the choices are having a dog that has to be drugged into near unconsciousness on a daily basis or a dog in pain. There's really only one good choice.
Anyway, in closing … Photos of Mom's 2013 Chevy Impala and Mom.
It was a really long two weeks. I don't think I've fully recovered yet, mostly because through it all, I was dealing with a case of bronchitis. Yuck. I'm just glad we got that all done so fast. And now a bonus photo of poor, poor Pixie.