After having my car hit by a semi on September 21st, I just wanted to go home, but first there was all this paperwork. Just for starters, the police officer gave ME a ticket. The woman who told me she saw the semi go through the red light either lied to me or lied to the policeman, and naturally the semi driver said it was my fault. They said I turned when the light changed to yellow.
I don’t believe it. The light was turning red. Anyway, I’m not stupid enough to make a left turn in front of a semi, and I never even saw him until he was right on top of me. Was another semi already stopped in the left southbound lane, maybe, that blocked my view of the one still in motion? If so, that would support my claim that the light was turning red. But there it is – it’s their word against mine, and I lose. No other witnesses came forward.
The cop also gave me an accident report, partly filled out, and explained what I needed to do with it, and an envelope. He gave me instructions about the citation, too. He asked me where I wanted to go, and when I said, “Home,” he said he couldn’t do that. After a short discussion he dropped me off at a nearby restaurant, which was a mistake, because I didn’t want to eat, I wanted to smoke. And go home.
(A word to the police: Giving verbal instructions about paperwork to people who are dazed and crying after a car crash is stupid. There needs to be an instruction sheet that can be referred to later. I really don’t recall enough of what he told me to do.)
Getting Home
You’d think calling a taxi would be a simple thing, right? But I don’t understand my new smartphone (my first one) very well yet. I asked a man at the restaurant to find a cab company phone number for me to call, but when I did, they said they weren’t in my area and gave me a different number. I called the second number and listened to an interminable automated menu and finally gave up. I called my motor club and was told, “That’s not what we do.” I said, “Fuck you” and hung up.
I wound up limping over to the gas station where I’d intended to get gas and bought cigarettes and a lighter. In the driveway there was a cabbie who said he’d be back for me in a minute. He wasn’t. Another cab was parked there, but the driver said he had a fare and couldn’t call his company to get a taxi for me. Finally I did something smart and called the number on the side of his cab.
In the cab I talked for awhile to my son Joey. He got me calmed down at last.
The accident was at around 2:00. I got home at 4:35. As I said in my previous blog, since the towing service had taken all my keys, I was damned fortunate to have an electronic lock on my front door.
The cab driver was a sweetheart. He got a big tip and a hug.
Most of the time, until Joey soothed me, I was crying.
