Return to the Scene of the Accident

 
My Saturn, Wednesday, March 30th at 6 PM.

This was the scene a week ago tonight at about 6 PM, on 22nd Street just west of Craycroft.  Since my previous entries about the accident involving my beloved Saturn (reminder: no, it wasn't my fault!), I've dropped off the car at Maaco (estimate: $2,596.64) and picked up a rental car:



The rental

That was Friday.  Since then, I've taken the rental up Mount Lemmon, talked to Ed at Maaco and Samantha at the Englewood, CO office of Viking Insurance once each, and checked on the prospects for getting another Saturn if mine is totaled.  This is what I've learned:

1. The estimate is about 95% of the car's book value.
2.  Viking will almost certainly total the car.  However, Samantha is waiting to hear back from her company before offering a settlement.
3.  Saturn wants about $5,000 for a 1989 Honda (no thanks, even though I've met the previous owner) or a 1999 Saturn.  They would also want almost $5,000 for a 1997 Saturn if they had one, which they don't.
4.  If the car is totaled, I may be able to use the check (with salvage value deducted) to get it fixed anyway.
5.  Everybody I talk to, only half-jokingly, wants me to exaggerate my rather negligible injuries (a black and blue knee, and a sore back caused by stress) to try to get more money.  The theory is that it helps to make up for the gulf between Blue Book value of the car and its replacement cost.  But this is dishonest, and I won't do it.

Tonight I started for home at about 5:45 PM, same as a week ago tonight.  At the first side street below Broadway on Country Club, I had to slam on the brakes of the rental car to avoid hitting some idiot who started to turn right onto Country Club without looking for oncoming traffic.  Fortunately, we both stopped in time!

Then, as if that wasn't enough of a traumatic reminder, I witnessed the aftermath of an almost exact reenactment of my accident.   I was in the same lane of 22nd Street at the exact same time as last week, give or take a minute or two.  There in the restaurant parking lot was a motorcycle cop (the same one?), and a fire truck driven by paramedics.  On the shoulder, people were standing around by at least two smashed up cars.  The main differences were that neither vehicle was a truck, and neither driver was named Karen Blocher

The rental and I made it home safely.

Karen

Collision

Waiting for the Viking