I got booshed in the butt Saturday. That is to say my truck was rear-ended. That’s the seventh time I’ve been rear-ended since moving to Washington State. And to think I used to complain about crazy California drivers.
I got nailed by a teenage girl on the way to her after-school job. That’s the second time a teenage driver got me. I’ve been hit twice by drunk drivers too - both of them women, both times in the middle of the day. One time I was hit by a guy in a four-wheel drive vehicle who thought four-wheel drive meant he could stop more easily on ice. WRONG!
But guess what? ABS brakes aren’t much help either. They have been designed not to lock up in a panic-stop situation. The poor girl who hit me Saturday said to me, “I tried to stop but my brakes didn’t work.” That’s because she had ABS brakes. I was stopped, signaling a left turn into the street where I live and saw her coming in my rear-view mirror. I don’t think she was driving too fast, she just wasn’t as aware of what I was doing as she should have been. I always look in my rear-view mirror at cars coming up behind me in that particular location because most people zip along that road faster than they should and I’m always fearful they won’t see me turning in time to avoid hitting me. That’s worked pretty well for thirteen years, but it didn’t work this time.
Some people drive off onto the narrow shoulder to pass me if they think they have the room. The girl who hit me looked like she thought about that, but she made the mistake of jamming on her brakes. I started praying, “Don’t hit me, don’t hit me,” but she did.
I’m glad Sam wasn’t with me when I got rear ended. He usually sits on the center console between my truck’s seats and he might have needed a dentist after the crash. I’ve stopped quickly with him on the console before and sent him flying into the dash, so I can imagine what the crash might have done.
I’m willing to bet that most of our readers have been rear ended at one time or another; tell us your tale. Meanwhile, I should tell on myself. One time, when I was a California Highway Patrol officer I was in a hurry to get back to the office at the end of a shift. A lady in front of me on the freeway off-ramp went to make a right turn onto a surface street. I wrongly assumed she would complete the turn and looked the other way. BANG! I smacked her in the rear end. Talk about embarrassing! When I approached the lady’s car she blurted out, “Oh officer, I know you were just trying to pull me over and I panicked and hit the brakes.”
Several thoughts went through my mind about that time. I hadn’t damaged her car and only broke a front turn signal on the patrol car. So, I thought, “H-m-m-m. I might weasel out of this." To my credit though, I admitted I hit the lady and offered to call a sergeant and have him fill out a report. The lady graciously said that wasn’t necessary and drove off into the sunset. I had the turn signal replaced on the patrol car when I returned to the office. I learned a valuable lesson that day about not assuming that somebody was going to make a turn, and to look before I pulled forward.
Crashes irritate the poop out of me. They can be a real pain in the rear. .
I got nailed by a teenage girl on the way to her after-school job. That’s the second time a teenage driver got me. I’ve been hit twice by drunk drivers too - both of them women, both times in the middle of the day. One time I was hit by a guy in a four-wheel drive vehicle who thought four-wheel drive meant he could stop more easily on ice. WRONG!
But guess what? ABS brakes aren’t much help either. They have been designed not to lock up in a panic-stop situation. The poor girl who hit me Saturday said to me, “I tried to stop but my brakes didn’t work.” That’s because she had ABS brakes. I was stopped, signaling a left turn into the street where I live and saw her coming in my rear-view mirror. I don’t think she was driving too fast, she just wasn’t as aware of what I was doing as she should have been. I always look in my rear-view mirror at cars coming up behind me in that particular location because most people zip along that road faster than they should and I’m always fearful they won’t see me turning in time to avoid hitting me. That’s worked pretty well for thirteen years, but it didn’t work this time.
Some people drive off onto the narrow shoulder to pass me if they think they have the room. The girl who hit me looked like she thought about that, but she made the mistake of jamming on her brakes. I started praying, “Don’t hit me, don’t hit me,” but she did.
I’m glad Sam wasn’t with me when I got rear ended. He usually sits on the center console between my truck’s seats and he might have needed a dentist after the crash. I’ve stopped quickly with him on the console before and sent him flying into the dash, so I can imagine what the crash might have done.
I’m willing to bet that most of our readers have been rear ended at one time or another; tell us your tale. Meanwhile, I should tell on myself. One time, when I was a California Highway Patrol officer I was in a hurry to get back to the office at the end of a shift. A lady in front of me on the freeway off-ramp went to make a right turn onto a surface street. I wrongly assumed she would complete the turn and looked the other way. BANG! I smacked her in the rear end. Talk about embarrassing! When I approached the lady’s car she blurted out, “Oh officer, I know you were just trying to pull me over and I panicked and hit the brakes.”
Several thoughts went through my mind about that time. I hadn’t damaged her car and only broke a front turn signal on the patrol car. So, I thought, “H-m-m-m. I might weasel out of this." To my credit though, I admitted I hit the lady and offered to call a sergeant and have him fill out a report. The lady graciously said that wasn’t necessary and drove off into the sunset. I had the turn signal replaced on the patrol car when I returned to the office. I learned a valuable lesson that day about not assuming that somebody was going to make a turn, and to look before I pulled forward.
Crashes irritate the poop out of me. They can be a real pain in the rear. .
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