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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.
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