24 March 2009

How A Garage Sale Ruined My Saturday

At 8:45 AM this past Saturday, I meandered out to my truck to leave for a meeting at the church that was scheduled to start at 9. To my surprise, the neighbor across the street was hosting a garage sale and the cul de sac was packed with cars. No problem, right? Well, one manners-challenged person decided it would be fine to just block a strangers driveway and parked covering 3/4 of our drive.

So, I politely wandered over to the neighbors yard and asked her to have the owner of the offending vehicle move it so I could attend my meeting. She complied and started to ask people if it was their truck, and so I headed over to my vehicle, started it, and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, I'd lost all patience (which, granted doesn't take much for me sometimes when it comes to people starring in their own personal soap operas) and backed out with 1/2 my truck in my lawn. I was about 6" away from the bumper of the car blocking my drive...not really all that close. 

At any rate, I backed out and then had to go down to the end of the cul de sac to turn around and exit the neighborhood. As I was coming back towards my house, I noticed a lady in the street pointing at the offending truck (funny how she didn't profess ownership when asked by the neighbor huh?). So, I rolled the window down and shouted to the lady "Yeah, move your truck! What are you thinking blocking someone's driveway?" Then, I left and headed for the church. Well, a few minutes later Rachael called my cell and told me "this is a much bigger deal than you think...she is claiming you hit her truck." At this point, I was beyond irritated...I was mad. So, I turned around and headed back home.

As soon as I got home, I approached the lady sitting in her truck and asked her to get out. I told her I did not hit her truck in any way...to which she pointed at her back BUMPER and muttered something in Spanish. This went on a few times and it was clear she either did not speak English or didn't want to speak English at that time (a remarkable phenomenon here in Texico). At this point, I was beyond mad...I was irate...so I called the police because I could see the dollar signs sparkling in her evil eyes. 

After a long wait, the police, and the ladies husband/boyfriend/brother/life coach (or some combination thereof), showed up. I told the story to the police officer while the lady and the husband/boyfriend/brother/life coach conferred in the street. When the police officer approached them, the husband/boyfriend/brother/life coach informed him that I didn't really hit the bumper, but I'd hit the back fender in front of the wheel. In addition, they pointed out that I had a white mark on my front bumper. An amazing switch of story, huh? Well, I inspected the area he was claiming I hit, then headed into the house to get a tape measure. Now, I don't claim to be too brilliant, but immediately I could see that the area he pointed to was much lower than the mark on my truck that had been there for years. So, I whipped out the tape measure and showed that their mark was at 18" and my mark was at 25". How could that be? The police officer thought that was pretty funny. 

In the meantime, the officer had talked to two eyewitnesses that confirmed I had not even come close to their truck. He told the idiot couple of this fact and they still continued to claim I hit the car...but, they then decided that I really had not hit in front of the wheel, but behind the wheel. At this point, I could see the full scam press was on and they already had plans for the money they intended on collecting from my insurance company. So, I pointed out to them that their car was TAN while the marks on my truck are WHITE. Got the same reaction from the idiot couple, but did get an acknowledgement from the police officer. Then, the police officer pointed out that if I had hit them, the black rubber from my bumper would have rubbed off on their vehicle...not their paint rubbing off on my vehicle. Same stupid grin on the idiot couple's faces. At this point, the husband/boyfriend/brother/pimp/life coach thought it would lend more credence to his argument if he pointed out the truck had a "custom paint job, man." To which I said..."doesn't matter to me, I'm fully prepared to see you in court because you nor your lying wife will get a penny from me and I fully intend on recuperating every cent I spend defending myself if you pursue your lie." The police officer sent me to my driveway at this point. :-) So, I took lots of pictures of where they parked, the scratches, the tape measure held up next to the scratches, etc.

The police officer told me he had to issue an incident report because the idiot couple continued to insist I hit their truck.

So, let's take inventory:

- Their story changed three times
- The paint doesn't match
- The height of the scratches do not match
- I have picture proof
- I have two eye witnesses

Yet, most likely I will be getting a call from my insurance company any day telling me a claim has been submitted. Welcome to Texico. And we wonder why our insurance premiums are so high. 

1 comment:

Danelle said...

Wow! And I thought MY life was complicated!! No one can tell a story like you, Thom. Hahaha!