Carma

My car is cursed.

If you've kept up with my blogs lately, you can confirm I've been SOL. The streak continues, as I was hit by a car by this morning on the way to work. The good news is the damage was minimal and no one was hurt, but a nuisance nonetheless.

From the accident scene, my phone convo with Dad/Lawyer:

Dad: Are you okay?

Me: Yes, I'm fine.

Dad: Who hit who?

Me: He hit me, but he says I hit him.

Lawyer: Whatever you do, don't admit to fault.

Me: Uh huh.

Lawyer: If the cop starts pressuring you and asking too many questions, don't say a word. Tell him you want to speak to your lawyer.

Me: Ok, Dad.

Lawyer: Don't back down.

Me: I won't.

Here's how the rest of the events unfolded:

Hang up phone. Sigh. Wait for cop. Highway Helper in bright yellow truck pulls up and instructs us to vacate the busy freeway premises. Take first exit, pull to right side of the curb. Wait for cop. Flip through phone contacts. Consider calling/texting friends. Realize it's 7:30 am -- they don't give a damn. Cop shows up. The other driver, East Indian Dude, shows her his hand-written diagram depicting how I was in the wrong. Cop agrees with him, declaring the extra lane for has changed since the bridge collapse and that there have been many accidents and complaints since then.

Cop (to me): ...so you're at fault.

Me: Ok (I am weak, passive, and back down to authority figures).

Cop takes our license and registration info back to her vehicle, promising we'll be on our way in a few minutes. I secretly hope they'll discover a warrant for Indian Dude's arrest. It's windy so I wait in my car. Dad calls and asks for update. I give him the rundown -- he scolds me, "I taught you better than that!" No, not really, but it's never been more clear that his desire for me to follow in his footsteps is simply asinine. Instead of disappointment, however, the zealous attorney in him kicks into overdrive.

Lawyer: Just don't say anything else. Don't worry -- we're going to fight this.

Me: Alright.

Lawyer: You have your phone? Take pictures.

Twenty minutes later, Cop gives us back our info and I ask for further explanation of the lane divide, and defend myself again, still confused as to how it was my fault. We each receive a statement of the police report and a motor vehicle crash report where I can draw my own diagram and take my sweet time crafting a carefully worded description of the incident.

I need a drink.