IT COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE
A Widow Bit – July 10, 2011
By Mary Koch

            I was slowly backing my new car out of the carport (less than 2,500 miles on the odometer – and you can already guess where this is going) when I heard a soft “ding!”

            I’d nudged the rearview mirror on the driver’s side against the gate. My first nick! Scolding myself, I pulled forward, turned the wheel and watched intently as I again backed out. Just as the mirror was safely beyond the gate I heard that dreaded metal-on-metal crunch.

            No more scolding. By now, I was roundly cursing myself as I inspected the damage. A three-and-a-half-inch dent and scratch on the passenger side. What especially upset me was how much it upset me. It’s just a piece of metal; it shouldn’t matter that much, but somehow it did. To make matters worse, in an effort to economize I’d just increased the deductible on my auto insurance.

            Maybe I shouldn’t fix it, I thought. Then the next scratch or dent won’t be so painful. But I have to fix it, or I’m going to have rust. I vexed and anguished for about 24 hours, when someone offered a suggestion. “It looks to me like somebody hit you in the Wal-Mart parking lot and just drove off,” my would-be advisor said blandly. That would qualify the repairs under the collision part of my policy, with only $250 deductible instead of comprehensive, with $500 deductible.

            I thought about it. I mean even Jesus, having fasted for 40 days and nights, must have given at least momentary consideration to Satan’s suggestion of turning rocks into bread before rejecting the notion. I thought about how I’d feel after-the-fact if I lied in order to save $250. I don’t know what my price is, if I have one, but it’s not that low. Making that decision helped clear my head about the whole incident. I can forgive myself, even if that brief lapse in driving skills is costing me $142.86 per inch. My insurance company will magnanimously pay the remaining $366. Yup, that’s $866 for a three-and-a-half-inch scratch.

            I was glum when I pulled into the dealership.

            “It could be worse,” said the woman who sold me the car. She directed me to the lot outside the body shop where sat a big, beautiful, macho, late-model pickup truck. Most certainly, this truck is someone’s pride and joy. On the driver’s side it was perfect, glistening in the afternoon sun. Walking around it, I saw the right front panel and entire right side were ripped to shreds. A refrigerator sat in the truck bed, a commanding presence.

            The driver, I learned, was taking the refrigerator to the landfill. The refrigerator apparently hadn’t been tied down adequately and began to tilt as the truck went around a corner. The driver veered to balance the refrigerator, over-corrected and hit the guardrail. All to save an appliance that was headed for the dump.

            “He was having a baaad day,” said the saleswoman. I’m wondering what he told the insurance company.