Last week, I was in a car crash. Not even, I was in a slight bingle with another vehicle. I was driving one of my house mates home from the shops, we had stocked up on food, wine and we planning on celebrating finalising the move. We were laughing, she was crumping and the traffic was stop start, stop start all along a busy main road.And due to my slow reaction time, hit the car in front of me.
I am the first person to admit that I am not the greatest driver. I am easily distracted, have a slight lead foot and I'm thinking of introducing a complementary sports bra to my passengers. This incident was just another moment of proof why people look at me, my car and question the sanity of the person who issued my licence. And while I take full responsibility of my action behind the wheel, I am so often surprised by the actions of others.
The woman driving the vehicle in front, leapt out of her car within seconds of hearing that awful crunch (regardless of the traffic passing on either side of us) to yell at me through my half open window, questioning my sanity, my eye sight and my driving ability. After we moved to the side of the road and inspected both of the cars (mine a little beat up from a previous encounter with a pole and an itty-bitty scratch next to her number plate) Muttering and fuming, she took my insurance details, and acknowledging that it was not as significant as she thought, said she would let me off with a warning, that I should be more cautious when driving around "prestige cars"* and drove off in a huff.
This morning, I received a call from her insurance company, letting me know she had filed a claim against me. A fee of $1600 was payable. Yes, you read right, Sixteen hundred dollar for a little scratch on the back of her car.
I am not a wealthy woman. I don't have a European car. And I sure as hell don't have a spare $1600 stuffed beneath my mattress. According to her insurance company, my whole car - plus insurance - is worth the same amount as her bumper bar, and that is the most expensive thing I own. If someone was to drive over my car with a monster truck, I would be lucky to get a grand. Safe to say I did laugh when I heard the quote.
I would count my life a success if I was not never find myself in her situation, trying to wrestle money out of strangers for my own peace of mind. She was not asking for money because she was inconvenienced, because she needed to get a new car or organise a new road worthy, but simply because the car didn't look brand new any more.
Most of the things I own are second hand, some third- or fourth-hand, and yes, I can value them. Yes, I would be disappointed if my house burnt down tomorrow but not because my iPhone is in there, or my pretty shoes. But because my house burnt down. The things I value most in the world look like rubbish to other people. The shoe box of notebooks and scrap paper beneath my bed that contain all my musings from my adolescence, the bundle of letters tired up with a ribbon, my grandmothers necklace I was given when turned eighteen. But no amount of insurance would be able to replace these things. But they would be the first things I grab.
I do not want my life to be remembered as a collection of material purchases, of shiny cars and sparkly toys. Sitting bitterly in my old age, the sum of my life shown in money and prestige. (and although I'm not saying she is going to be, I just sincerely hope she has something more in her life than just that car) I want memories, I want laughter, I want someone crumping in my passenger seat. I want an accident prone life. And if that means I will never have a prestige car, well I think I would be able to mange.
Kathleen x
*I don't know much about cars, but fairly sure that just 'cause it was made overseas doesn't mean your driving a Ferrari
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