When Making a Right is Wrong

I'll start with a little haiku, I call, "When Making a Right Turn From the Left Lane"

 
Don't
Ever
Ever
Seriously...
Ever
 

 
Some of you already know, if you follow the guy behind the genius on Facebook, that about a month ago, I was unfortunate enough to have been involved in a car accident.  If you're sharp, and some of you are questionable....it involved a right turn.  At least it involved SOMEONE'S right turn.
 
I had left work one crystal clear blue sky (birds were even singing) morning to attend the funeral of my dear friend Dona, who lost her life in a tragic freak accident at her home.  I was headed south on Harvard Avenue, thinking about Dona and the history that I had with she and her wonderful husband Bill.  Now Harvard Ave. is a 4 lane street...one of the main thoroughfares that traverses our city.  I was beginning to cross the intersection of 31st Street, traveling in the right lane.  I was headed straight south with a red Ford F150 beside me.  When I began to cross the intersection, the pickup to the left of me made a right turn.  Hmmmm, I thought, I did not expect this.  It seemed obvious due to the hard turn he was making, his intention was not to merely change lanes, but to actually...turn....right. 
 
I pride myself in my driving skills.  I mean, I watch NASCAR...I know how to drive.  I've already covered in previous posts about moronic drivers, I've been driving since I was about 9 years old.  Ain't my first rodeo.  I actually had to take a defensive driving course when I was on the fire department.  You know, for people who are so thoughtful, courteous, and respectful of emergency vehicles going red lights and siren to an emergency situation to render aid.  Even if people actually pay attention and pull over, or yield at an intersection, there are those who actually obey the LAW and create their own set of problems.  More than once I've seen people who have Jay Z turned up until their windows are bulging to the beat finally notice the fire truck coming up behind them.  Blue smoke comes from the tires as the brakes lock up, the car fishtailing from right to left as the car slows, and they power slide to the right shoulder (in obedience to the LAW) like an open wheel car hits the pits at the Indy 500 for 4 tires, fuel and adjustments.  As you go by, there's a nod toward out their window, and you can see them very cooly mouth the word, "Sup?"  Sheesh
 
Nothing in my training, experiences, or driving courses prepared me for someone making a right turn from the left lane.  As I typically do, since I'm a problem solver, I stayed calm, put my foot through the floorboard with the brake pedal, cranked the wheel to the right in order to try to avoid the hit, and...well...he hit me anyway.
 
His truck hit right on the corner of my drivers side bumper, and as if in slow motion, the sound of crinkling sheet metal and scrapes as his bumper began there, and laid a stripe of red paint (clashing with the deep blue) imbedded in creases and dents from bumper to bumper on my car.  I saw my driver's side mirror catapulting end over end (again in slow motion) about 10 feet in front of my car into the intersection.  The forward motion halted, and the destructive noise ceased.  It was done.  Sort of.
 
I love my Mustang.  I haven't had the opportunity, mostly by choice, to have a newish car throughout my life.  I've chosen to spend car payment money on other things...like food, shelter, and clothing.  I didn't have a midlife crisis, felt cheated, and I bought a Mustang convertible.  Again, problem solved.  The first thought I had was not, "Holy crap, my CAR!!!!!"...it was, "Holy crap, the FUNERAL!!!  I'm not going to make it!!!!!"  I was more than a little pissed that this guys' stupidity was going to cause me to miss it.
 
What followed was not one of the proudest moments of my life.  I'm slightly embarrassed by it now.  I typically don't react the way I did.  Our cars blocking the westbound lanes of 31st Street, I jumped out of the car and shouted as the guy came around the front of his truck, "What the (eff) were you thinking???"  Yep, the queen mother of curse words flew out of my mouth as if my tongue were greased and nothing could hold it back.  The guy was really unfazed by what I said, because he calmly and somewhat annoyingly said, "I guess we were both trying to make a right turn at the same time."  Wh...wh....WHAT????  I'm sure something broke in my brain at that point as I tried really hard to process what he had just said.  Again, the greased tongue took over and "The hell I was!!!! I was going straight, and I don't know what the hell you were doing!!!!!!!!" came screaming out of my mouth like a 50mm Howitzer round. 
 
In retrospect, yelling out a 150 year old guy who obviously shouldn't be driving in the middle of a busy intersection in Tulsa, Oklahoma may allegedly have not been the smartest thing to do.  In all fairness, at the time, all I saw was a stupid male driving a Ford pickup.  Thankfully, a cop happened to be nearby and blocked the intersection, because my next move was to grab the dude's keys and heave them as hard and far as I could, preferably up on the Broken Arrow Expressway overpass right behind us.  I'm pretty sure the adrenaline would have helped me get them there.  Thankfully the cop didn't have to pull me off of an old guy in the middle of a busy intersection in the middle of Tulsa, Oklahoma and throw cuffs on me, put me in the back of a squad car, take me to jail, dress me in orange, take an unflattering portrait that would show up on Tulsa Mugshots, and sit in jail for a while as my sons contemplated posting bail or letting me sit there.  I KNOW those turds would make me stay for a while.  They probably owe me one.
 
A month long story abbreviated:  The guy had a high risk insurance policy (shock), avoided his insurance company as they tried to get his statement to establish liability because, heaven forbid, they would spend some money and obtain the police report which clearly establishes his fault in the accident.  You'd think it was 1955 as that insurance company talked about mailing requests, mailing money to the police department, mailing documents to me and the insured...they missed the memo that it's 2014, and that God invented email, online processes, and a while back, even fax machines.  But I'm sure in their mind the speed and efficiency of a bankrupt government institution that still uses mules and wagons is oh so much better than that new fangled stuff.  Finally a month later, my beloved Mustang is in the shop.  Did I tell you that I was forced to drive in rush hour traffic twice a day without a driver's side mirror (I was out of duct tape), and that the blind spot on a Mustang could hide Godzilla from view?  Yeah, that makes for a stress free drive time.  $4600 damage.
 
Because of the issue with the mirror, I had been begging them to get me a rental car for weeks, let alone get the freakin car in the shop.  If I were independently wealthy, I would have rented one, and had them reimburse me with the claim, but alas, I can't even afford to pay attention.  Enterprise sent a rep to pick me up at the body shop to take me back to the rental office to sign paperwork for the car I would drive while my car was being repaired.  I asked for a new Mustang Cobra GT which can top out at 190mph.  I had a Mustang, right?  I should have the opportunity to drive a Mustang...a fast one.  We did the paperwork and I was led out of the door to look over my new temporary ride.  I scanned the parking lot, unable to see the Cobra which I assumed was around the corner.  But we kept walking toward the black car.  She stood in front of the Mazda and said, "Let's look over it and inspect it for damage."  I said, "That's not a Cobra, that's a train wreck."  Ok, maybe I didn't actually say it out loud, but I was sure thinking it REALLY loudly.  I'm pretty sure the top speed is 43 mph, sounds like a sewing machine, and accelerates slower than a 75 year old sloth.  For those of you unfamiliar with sloths...that's old.  What makes it worse is, I was told by a dear friend that it's a girl car.  Seeing my man card slipping away.
 
It's been quite an adventure, but soon, there will be a grand reunion, I'm sure much like the rapture.  Tears of joy will be shed, fenders shined, and a smile will spread across my face as I look into my driver's side mirror, looking down the flawless driver's side of the 'Stang, and the ability to keep up with traffic is restored.  Happy (and smart) driving!  FG
 
 


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