Wednesday, October 31

Car Story (Part I)

Introduction:

Here is an image of my car. (Not actually MY car, but the make/model/year from the Hyundai website).

source


Lovely, right? It's a nice car. Engine is great, it runs well. It met every single one of my hard requirements and almost (I would've preferred a v6 engine), every single one of my soft standards.

When we bought it, it had 60,003 miles on it. All clean, shiny, new, and beautiful. The engine still runs great.

So here is the first part of the Car Drama 2018:

About 8 (9?) weeks ago I was leaving for work, running a little late. Not terribly, but enough to put me in a rush. So I back out of my parking space and I'm glancing at the clock and I bump the sidewalk and I'm like "d'oh! Be more focused, Becky!" and I turn on the radio and head to work and make it there with two minutes to spare.

I work my shift.
I come home.
And my neighbor, whom I'm going to call Clifford,* is standing on his doorstep smoking, as he does. So I'm heading inside, when he calls out to me.

CLIFFORD: You know, you hit our car.
ME: (horrified) What? I did? When?
CLIFFORD: This morning, you backed into our car.
ME: (Still horrified) Holy shit! I'm so sorry! I didn't even realize. Wait, is that what happened? I thought I bumped the sidewalk! I'm so so so so sorry!

Clifford goes on to tell me that yeah, he and his girlfriend, Lola,* were getting the kids ready to go somewhere and I bonked their car. And I'm HORRIFIED. I ask about the kids and of course, he's all "oh, they were upstairs" and I'm like "Ok, well, thank god they weren't in the car."
So this conversation goes on for like, fifteen minutes.
He keeps reiterating that I just "left the scene of an accident" and Lola called the cops and they reported it, but I'm lucky because he, Clifford, is not a bastard and didn't report WHO hit their car and left the scene because we're neighbors and he's knows I'm a careful driver and not someone who actually would leave the scene of an actual accident.
And that's annoying me a bit. Because yeah, I left. I was distracted and in a hurry and I thought I bumped the curb and went on my way to work.
Because I thought I hit the curb.
1.) I would NEVER leave the scene of an actual accident.**
2.) I thought I bumped the sidewalk. No WAY I hit their car hard enough to actually damage it, or anyone who was or wasn't inside at the time. I'm not saying it's all cool, but....

So he's going ON and ON about I don't have to worry because the police don't know, even though he filed a report. And he reiterates several times about how he's a good guy for not reporting me because I should know that I could go to jail for that.

I don't see his car, and he informs me that Lola took it to get checked out, in case of issues.
I check out my car, which is fine, and I'm nodding and I tell him to let me know if the mechanic comes back with anything.

The following day, Lola and the car are back and the car is fine. I look at it and I can't even see a scratch. (I feel I need to point out that his car is ancient and also a piece of crap.)
The day after that, I see Clifford and he says Lola is still pissed, but I'm so lucky he talked her down and yeah, the car is fine, so I'm so lucky.
I apologize again and tell him I'm glad the car is good. See ya around. (While I don't dislike Clifford, I'm not particularly fond of him, either.)


Then, six weeks later...
I get home from work. I had a crap day.
Clifford is standing on his doorstep, smoking. I start walking toward my door, anxious to get inside and have a bubble bath and read some fluffy brain candy.

And he calls out to me.
Tells me his car is making a clunking sound.
ME:




He continues about the clunking sound and how I'm really lucky and should be really grateful because I could go to jail but because he's such a good guy, he's not banging on my door demanding money.

ME:




He continues just kind of running his mouth and I am saying very little. And he's suggesting that we "work something out" because of the noise, and because I "hit his car and fled the scene of the accident."
I ask what the problem is, specifically. He says he doesn't know. He wants the name of a mechanic and we can "work something out."

ME:


ME: Well I find it odd that it happened six weeks ago and this is the first I'm hearing of any noise.
CLIFFORD: Well, it started about three or four days after you hit us, and it's been getting worse.
ME: You had the car checked out that day though?
CLIFFORD: ...........
ME: If it started just a couple days after, then why is this the first I'm hearing about it?
CLIFFORD........I mean, I figure we could work something out. I mean, I know you're not someone who would normally just hit someone and run off. Lola was pissed, but you know, I told her, I know you, and you're not someone who would just take off. And I mean, I'm not banging on your door demanding money.
ME: I can recommend some good auto shops, but I'm not paying your mechanic bills.




I have not actually heard anything more on the subject since that conversation. There were several times when Clifford would happen to be on his doorstep every time I arrive home from work. (He doesn't work.)  But Shawn also got into the habit of coming out and standing on OUR doorstep whenever I pulled in, just in case Clifford decided to try to ambush me again. After a week straight of that, Clifford stopped being on the doorstep when I get home. Once he happened to be and I nodded and said hello and he ignored me.  So, whatever.

That's part 1. More Car Drama to come! :) 


*Names changed
**Barring, of course, zombie apocalypse, etc. 

2 comments :

  1. oh FUCK that guy. I bet you never even hit their car.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. LOL Exactly - FUCK that guy! And he hasn't approached the subject with me so far. :)

      Delete


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