Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Bumper Car Against Car Bumper
After almost twenty years of driving without any car accidents (close calls don’t count as they prove I’ve got great reflexes), the inevitable has happened. I’ve had a car accident.
Miraculously, there were no fatalities. And it’s a good thing no-one got catapulted through the windscreen and crashed violently into a traffic sign, because even thirty minutes after the crash not a single ambulance was in sight. The fire brigades of Antwerp and the neighbouring communities were nowhere to be seen. Not even a single helicopter to verify if there was any danger of huge explosions.
Incomprehensible, since we were both driving at some three to five kilometres an hour. I tell you we were very, very lucky.
It happened on the parking lot of the new DIY-superstore that opened recently when I was in Congo. I must say that the organisation of that parking is very confusing. Not that I was confused, with my superior navigation abilities, but the guy who bumped into my car sure was. While I was backing out of my parking space, he realised that he was driving into the wrong direction. So he too backed up to be able to turn left into another corridor. It was then that both our cars collided with a mighty ‘bump’.
He was one of those Mercedes-driver-types, all sunglasses and professional business smiles and so on. He thought he could handle typical working class people like me, with their boxy Renault Partner cars and their dirty finger nails. But I would have none of that. Despite the fact that I was still very much in shock because of the dreadful accident, I made him put everything on paper. I made an excellent drawing of the situation and I got him to sign and everything, with his real name.
But alas, woe to those who are married to lawyers, for they shall burn in hell. Mrs B took my ‘waterproof’ description apart with a professional appetite. ‘There’s not even a date on it! You didn’t draw the other cars! Weren’t there any signs showing the direction you should drive? And why didn’t you get any witnesses to describe what happened! You didn’t even wrote what happened in your own words, are you mad!?’
I mumbled something in my defence, but she would have none of it. So I staggered to the cupboard to get a glass. I needed a cool drink, but instead I was bombarded, with a teacup that landed squarely on my head.
There’s only so much that a man can take, so I grabbed that cup and slung it right out of the door into the garden. Luckily the door was open, otherwise we would have a back-door with a teacup shaped hole in it.
So now I have to convince the insurance company that I creased my bumper in a car accident and that somehow, that teacup got in the way and got crushed in between the two cars. Otherwise, I have to pay for that cup myself.