Saturday, April 19, 2008

Losing a little faith in humanity

Friday was not a good day.

On Friday my wife and I switched vehicles. She took my truck so that she could drop it off at a repair shop near her workplace; my truck was badly in need of a near pair of front tires. [ That's what putting off buying a new vehicle for 2 years will get you.... ] In turn I drove her vehicle to my workplace. She got the better end of the deal.

My commute route varies according to
  1. day of the week,
  2. time of day,
  3. direction of travel,
  4. sound, and
  5. which intersections/streets the city chooses to render completely useless for extended periods of time.
The Monday drive home means taking the 385 Pkwy - I-240 W - I-240N and then home. Other days driving home means taking the Ridgeway exit off 385 and driving through town. Driving to the office might mean taking Walnut Grove to White Station to Poplar to the loop, or Sam Cooper to the loop. The sound of a train horn in the morning definitely means the latter. The construction at Perkins and Walnut Grove means avoiding it entirely.

So, this past Friday morning was a Sam Cooper to I-240 kinda day, which was fine until I hit the loop and realized that traffic was at a near standstill. I got a couple of lucky breaks and managed to shift over a couple of lanes, nicely positioning myself to avoid local traffic turning off onto Walnut Grove and Poplar. There I sat, parked, for at intents and purposes. Unfortunately, the driver of a small tan car wasn't that observant.

"Whoa!" That's what I yelled when I was struck on the rear passenger side of the vehicle. Maybe it's better that I didn't see it coming such that I didn't tense up. I looked up to see a small car making a severe course correction into the lane to my right, and then I saw them make another couple of quick adjustments and pull onto the shoulder of the road. I recovered and did the same, pulling in behind the driver. I stopped the car, turned it off, pulled out my phone, and began calling the police. Actually, I called 411 and had them transfer me to the police. Why not 911? Well, since I've been bombarded with TV commercials telling me to avoid using 911 for non-emergencies, I figured I was doing the right thing. Turns out I was not doing the right thing: the police told me to hang up and call 911. So I hung up and then realized I wasn't really aware of the situation yet. By this time the other driver had exited her vehicle and had walked around her car and then mine. She mumbled an apology and I asked her if she was okay, which, thankfully, she was. I called my wife and told her what had happened, and then I called 911.

And that's when the driver of the other car, a young black woman, about 5'1" or so, wearing scrubs and a white with pink and yellow pattern top got in her car while I wasn't looking, and drove off. No name, no license, no information.

Just so you know: leaving the scene of an accident is against the law in Tennessee.

I talked to the police, anyway, and they sent an officer who got to scene very quickly and took a report, and I have uninsured motorist coverage, so it's all good I suppose. It was when I got in my car and started driving off that I looked up and saw the Baptist Hospital sign that a few things clicked into place. 7:40 AM. Scrubs. Hospital. So, I figure there's a nurse at Baptist who ran into my car and then drove off to work. She drives a tan car. Her car is damaged on the front driver-side of the vehicle and may show signs of red paint.

Was she going to miss something important at work? Maybe. Was she uninsured, like ~40% of Memphis motorists? (that's an old figure, but still). Was she impaired? She was definitely groggy, especially for someone who had just hit another vehicle and should have been high on an adrenaline rush at the least. I can't say.

This is the second time I have been struck while not moving. The first time I was hit by someone pulling into an adjacent turn lane. It was dark. I got out and met a nice, older lady who admitted fairly quickly that she didn't have insurance, but that she wanted to pay to fix my vehicle. I took a look at her car, then at her, thought to myself, "she needs the money worse than I do", and told her no thanks. The damage was minor - heck, it added character to the truck.

Why the difference this time? Part of it is the vehicle. My wife keeps telling me that it wasn't my fault, but I still look at it as me causing damage to her favorite car that she wants to drive until it falls apart. Part of it I suppose it's because she didn't do what she should have done, really, and she got away with it. I do have a judgmental streak. Part of it is simple anger at myself for not doing some simple things, like immediately asking the other driver for her insurance card and taking a picture of her license plate with my cell phone. But part of it is that she didn't do what I wanted her to do. Yes, an accident is bad, but there's a breadth of ways they can be handled that can make all the difference, too, and I've seen that.

Did I expect some sort of karmic reward for my earlier gesture? No, but I sure wouldn't have minded if things turned out that way. Come Monday I'll be looking at the morning traffic a little more closely, but I'm wondering what I will do if I spot that driver. Part of me wants to stop her and pick up right where she left, with me calling the cops and seeing things handled properly. Part of me says, "Let it go." Part of me hopes that I don't see her, but that she sees me - often - and regrets driving off.