We have lived in DC for about 9 months now and we are LOVING it. We love the diversity of people, the weather, the shopping, the historical sites, all the trees, and most of all our ward. However, there is one thing that we do NOT care for- the drivers! In the nine months that we have lived here our car has been hit 4, count them 4, times!! We checked to see if there was a sign written on our car that says, “Hit me.” but there isn’t. People must just have it out for Toyota Camrys.
My parents bought me the Camry when I was 16. It is a 1996 green family machine. And I just have to say that I am attached to it. It was seriously the best car that my parents could have bought me. (Thanks Mom and Dad!) Anyway back to the story.
We had been in Virginia for maybe a week when a girl rear ended us while waiting at a stop light. Don’t worry she didn’t have her driver’s license! Lucky us the damage was minimal. No money collected.
The second time happened while at Church. We came out to a hand written note informing us that a truck had backed into the front of our car. They were sincerely sorry and had even left a phone number for us to call. After checking out the damages we took one look at our car (pay attention to the hood in the pictures) and decided that it wouldn’t be worth the hassle to get the insurances involved. Strike #2!!
The third was quite the doosy. Again the setting is the Church parking lot. This time after a Women’s Conference on a Saturday. Hallie and I, along with my friend Stacey, were walking out to my car when we WATCHED a Ford F150 back into the driver’s door. I was in shock as I watched my car just fold in. After the shock and frustration wore off we decided to turn our “bad luck” into a “dream come true” (Ben’s dream come true. I will blog about this later.) With the money from the insurance company we are going to buy a junk yard door and Ben will install it and with the excess money we bought an iMac computer. (Like how we bought the computer before we fixed the car.) 🙂
(Written by Ben) The fourth time happened just a week after the door got smashed in. I (Ben) was waiting to turn left at a stoplight when a an old Chevy Lumina, loaded with four black guys, ran into the back of me. The hit was harder than the first time we had been rear-ended so I thought it must have cracked the bumper. I got out and saw that there was no noticeable damage other than more lost paint (not unusual on our car). The driver was very apologetic and asked me not to report it (I thought this was reasonable since the damage was so minimal and the car so ugly). I told him to get his driver’s license and insurance card so I could write down his info. He didn’t have either (he had some BS story about why, but I didn’t pay close attention).
I decided to call the police and report the accident (at this point I was back in the car). As soon as I did two guys got out of the Lumina and popped the trunk. They loaded up a green duffle bag with who knows what and tore off down the road on foot. The other two guys sped off in the car (I forgot to mention they had handed me their registration certificate—I was still holding it as they sped off). I reported everything as it was happening.
The dispatcher told me to stay put—totally rained on my first chance to go on a high-speed pursuit. I listened on the phone as the dispatcher radiod back and forth with other police officers. She told me they had a trooper in pursuit right as I reported it. I swear it was 10 minutes later when the trooper flew by me with lights and sirens blaring. I sat there for 45 minutes before the dispatcher told me they couldn’t find the “suspects” and the trooper was en route back to me.
In the end, I got nothing but a “Good job son. Thanks for calling.” That made me feel safe and protected! 😉
