Driven around the bend by weirdness
Posted September 22, 2009on:
For the most part, I lead a fairly normal, everyday existence. Except, it seems, when it comes to traffic accidents. Or at least incidents that involve ICBC.
A decade or so back, I was driving along on a cold winter morning, hit a patch of black ice, and lost control of the car. I had a choice: I could hit the bushes (choice number 1), a fire hydrant (choice number 2) or a telephone pole (choice number 3). I aimed for the bushes and hoped for the best.
I hit the fire hydrant. And although my little Chevette didn’t launch into the air on the top of the geyser emanating from what was the fire hydrant, the amount of water was quite impressive.
About a week back, I got a call from ICBC saying saying I’d had an accident on September 2nd in Surrey although I hadn’t been anywhere near there. About 5 years back, I had a motorbike. When I moved in with Darren, the bike was not working so well, I didn’t really want to fix it, so I called a junkyard to come and pick it up and that was the last I heard of it.
I never cancelled the plate because…well, I didn’t. I have no excuse. Some jerkwad has been running around with my old plate for the last 5 years and had an accident. ICBC called me because when they put the plate number into the computer my name came up.
Anyways, that just goes away.
And then, there was yesterday. I picked up Darren from the train, we went to the store and were coming back along the highway. I moved into the right turn lane to, well, turn right. In front of the truck in front of me, this mountain bike comes flying out onto the road.
By which I mean somebody threw it onto the road. “The hell?” I said. The truck swerved to miss it, and then the guy who threw it came out and picked it up so I continued on, thinking that he was removing it from the lane.
And then he threw it again. It bounced off its front tire and hit our car on the back passenger door side. Where the Poptart sits. I slammed on the brakes and Darren leaped out of the car.
The guy was already turning around and walking back to his front door.
Now, Darren is not a small man. He stands 6’2″ and 240lbs (or so). He looks like a cop. He has presence when he wants to.
You can bet that guy turned back around right quick.
And then Momma Bear got out of the car and went and gave him shit for throwing crap onto the road and hitting the car where my daughter sits.
Asshat Mountain Bike Tosser: I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit the car but I’m sick of these crackheads next door putting their shit on my yard.
Momma Bear: I don’t particularly care. YOU lost your temper. YOU threw the bike and it hit the car right where my daughter sits. YOU could have caused a really serious accident. OWN IT. Unless you’re telling me that the crackheads next door are in charge of YOUR emotions and reactions, and then you have other problems.
There are scratches and dents on the door that need to be repaired. I get to go to ICBC on Thursday sometime.
Oh and the Poptart was completely oblivious to anything that had happened.
But really – who gets hit by a mountain bike that’s tossed into the road?
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