I'm going to try and keep this short...but I feel a short novel coming up. Maybe bigger...something like the size of one of those the sappy romance novels my mom would read by Danielle Steel when I was a kid. Except in this story there is no unfortunate wife who "walked into a door again" and there is no unrequited love. There is a broken heart though...mine. So I guess the beginning is a good place to start.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007. It was a morning like any other. It rained the night before, but the road outside looked dry. I debated riding the Honda Rebel or the Toyota Tacoma. It was a bit windy out, so I settled on the Tacoma. Traffic was smooth for 8AM in Austin. Turned left on Metric from Parmer and headed south. I passed Cedar Bend, about 5 mins from work when it happened. I was on the inside lane (it is a 2 lane road) with no one in front of me, smooth sailing, 'cept I was driving. I see a bus stopped ahead in the outside lane and spotted a truck just ahead of me in the outside line. He wasn't slowing down for the bus, so I anticipated the upcoming lane change...and there it is. I let off the gas as he changed lanes. He didn't exactly cut me off, but as I would soon find out, he didn't leave me safe assured distance. No sooner than he changed lanes did he slam on his brakes. So what do you do when the car right in front of you slams on their brakes? I slammed on my brakes, the truck started to skid without enough distance or time to stop. I let of the brake to stop skidding and tried to get around him, but my front left bumper hit his back right bumper. The only thing louder than the breaking glass and crumpling metal and plastic was my heart breaking. It was maybe a total of 3-4 seconds from the time the other driver started his lane change to the time my poor truck was ruined. In an instant, my piece of awesomeness, my first new truck, was forever changed. So why did that dude switch lanes and slam on his brakes? There was actually 2 buses stopped at the bus stop. The first part of that 2 part question is easy. This guy had way too many important things going on for him to have to slow down and wait for the bus to continue on his way. The latter was a result of the bus in back (2 buses stopped) also being in a hurry and ready to leave. From a dead stop, it pulled out in front of the truck that had pulled out in front of me to get around the first bus.
I tried to hold it together and rolled my truck into a parking lot. Disappointed and in disbelief, I checked with the other driver to make sure he was ok. He was. There was very little damage to his truck compared to my baby. Plus, he was driving a work truck...so he didn't suffer any personal loss. We both called our insurance companies, he also called his boss. He mentioned he could see the bus driver look back in her review mirror with wide eyes and then just keep on going. I called for a tow truck because my fender was bent back and rubbing against my tire. The tow truck arrived and this big, creepy looking guy squeezed out of the driver's side door. He looked like a combination of John Candy and Edward Norton in American History X. So John Norton asks for a police report and refuses to tow the truck without a police report. Apparently no tow truck in Texas will tow a vehicle from a wreck without a report? So now I'm calling the cops and thinking, "crap...I guess I should have renewed my registration sticker when it expired 6 months ago." Kirsten, I wanted to, I swear, after the first month...the thought just sorted vanished into thin air. Much like a bowl of chips and creamy jalepeno dip at Chuy's. The cop arrives and he is across the parking lot talking to the other driver. After a couple minutes he comes over to me and my truck. I position myself between him and my 6 month expired registration sticker. I have this kickin' Oakland Raiders license plate in the front, so he has to make his way to the back of the truck and I walk with him trying to block the line of sight to my sticker. In my head this looks like the most obvious and conspicuous thing I've ever done and I expect to be slammed down to the pavement and handcuffed, but Smokey doesn't seem hip to it. He gets all my info and goes back to his car. After a bit he comes back and gives us both a form with a case number on it and then he proceeds to give me a ticket for Failure to Maintain Assured Cleared Distance. Apparently while he was talking to the other driver he got his story, but never bothered to ask me for my side since the damage to the vehicles seemed pretty obvious I guess. I thought he had to have seen my expired sticker and was just taking it easy on me, so I accepted the ticket knowing I wasn't going to pay it. Fast forward, I get the tow and the damage is about 5Gs. Almost 2 months later I am still taking the truck back to get things fixed and there is still a loud clanking and will have to take it back. My poor truck will never be the same. It still "looks" like the most radical truck around, but inside...inside she's hurting.
At the end of May, I went to court for my "appearance docket." I had no idea really what it was. Knowing what I know now, I could have just mailed back the form I received in the mail to request my court date, but I went to the docket thinking I'd be talking to someone about the facts. The judge seemed nice and it was my 2nd time ever in a court, so I was curious to see how things worked. I got my turn and it was pretty lame. Some lady who apparently didn't have her morning cup of Starbucks mumbled at me without looking at me and asked me what I wanted to do. I said, "I guess I'd like to go to court," and that was that. My court date was scheduled for this morning, June 29th. Holly and I headed down to the court house on 7th street. Same court room as my appearance docket. The judge for this day looked amazingly like my own pops. Same build and glasses. He looked at me and said, "Son?" and I cried out, "Dad!?" Holly laughed at that one, a little too much and I had to give her the evil eye before she got me thrown out of court. So we are sitting there waiting for my turn. I'm reading "1408", a short story by Stephen King and Holly is planning out how I can use the white board to show the court that I am, I am an innocent man. Yes I am. So before things actually kickoff, lawyer's for the state are coming in and out, making copies of this and that and signing all sorts of papers. They looked straight out of school and I'm pretty sure they were making blank copies and playing "squares" with each other trying to look like they know what they are doing. The whole time I'm trying to focus on my story and stop thinking of the "Night Court" theme song with thumpin' bass line. The judge finally speaks up again and calls out a name and the guy right in front of use goes up to the bench to talk to the judge. Hes handed a yellow paper and told the ticket was dismissed and he could go. He stops back in front of us to collect his things and whispers, "that's what I'm talkin' 'bout...and I was guilty too!" And he walks out. So now I'm feeling pretty good thinking I'm going to be able to get to walk out of here with a dismissed ticket as well. There are a few cops who have come in, but I don't see the cop who gave me my ticket, nor did I expect to since the cop was not there to witness the accident. A minute later I'm called up and handed my own little piece of yellow goodness and my ticket is dismissed. Holly objects and demands that the court hear my case anyways...so I quickly use the force on her, "my case does not need to heard," and we leave. Again slightly disappointed, I wanted to see our court system in action.
To sum it up, got in a wreck, renewed my registration sticker 6 months overdue, took my truck to the body shop about 5 times with at least one more time to go and got my ticket dismissed. My heart still aches knowing my truck is now the transportation equivalent to my surgically repaired knees, great looking, but damaged underneath and creaking and popping any time it moves. Now that I have my truck almost working, I need to go visit my mum in Oklahoma...sorry about canceling the trip on Mother's Day. Not my fault though...it was the bus' fault! Stoopid bus.
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