Joined
·
2,477 Posts
Just returning from the club tonight at about 11:30 when suddenly
Bang - "Christ I think, something's hit me in the nearside". Then I think "of for ****'s sake I've never had a smack and some **** has gone and ruined that for me." Then I think "**** that's a ****ing huge Chevy van parked on the side of the road".
Fortunately the hands and feet have decided that bypassing the brain is the best plan and my hands are rapidly applying opposite lock while I look at them and think "whose hands are they?". Feet stay off the pedals so I turn through 180 up the kerb. When I look around a white van (aren't they all...) has jumped a give way at a T-junction and is frantically back-pedalling in to the side street, I can't open the drivers door because there is a garden fence and the passenger door is staved in and won't open. Somehow the car has slid between the fence and the parked Chevy van and when I finally exit through the drivers window and fall into someones front garden it becomes clear that there is an air gap of about 1 1/2" between my rear wing and the Chevy's rear wing and the van has been missed. Later on it dawns that the instincts from years of RWD might have saved me from a nasty one, if I'd started sawing at the wheel and slamming the brake pedal down I might have gone straight on into the parked Chevy van and I think the instincts were trying to hold it sideways and drift away from it.
The van driver admits it is his fault - then after details are exchanged he changes his mind. Apparently I was doing about 65 in a 30. I point out that
A - if he saw this then why did he pull out regardless and
B - Since he clearly didn't see me until the big bang or he wouldn't have driven into me how does he know precisely what I was doing before he ****ed me over.
(And for the record I was doing 35 and following someone else)
So my beloved MR-2 is certainly written off. And I am really bloody annoyed. Really bloody annoyed because all the inconveience and expense is down to one ****s inability to follow the rules of the road.
The nearside wing is crumpled in, the door is staved in, the rear wing is destroyed, the sill welds have failed at the rear wheel end and the rear alloy is scratched beyond repair. There's a dent on the other front wing where I've hit a fence and broke some panels. Also when I limp home the nearside rear wheel really feels bad like a drive shaft is bent.
Fortuantely a couple of things happen in my favour. Firstly the couple who own the house and the Chevy come out and hear the van driver admit responsibility. Then when he changes his tune, two club members who were about 15 minutes behind me on the road pull up and the van driver starts looking at his feet. Then a police car on the way to a domestic stops and when he starts "he was doing about 75 mph" (yeah, strange how stories grow in the telling...) they put him right about it being his fault with a Give Way sign ignored.
THe club members follow me home since happily they only live around the corner.
I have the address and phone no. of the van driver and the householder but didn't exchange insurers at the time. So I ring the van driver since I now have my docs to hand and guess what
"Sorry mate, he doesn't live here".
To be fair the guy who answered the phone and probably got dragged out of bed didn't sound one bit like the van driver.
OK, time for a panic. He could have given totally false details, there might be mistake in the phone number or he might be stonewalling behind the phone. So it's off the local police station and at this point I really realise that Jezebel the Mister Two won't be making another trip under her own steam ever again. Fortunately it's only a 4 mile round trip and it's gone midnight so i can trot along at about 20mph.
I get stuck in the queue behind a bloke who wants to report his brother for threatening his parents for money but doesn't want to give either his name, brothers name, parents name or anybodies address in case it comes back to him. Despite this he can give the WPC on the desk about a 25 minutes account of his life and where it all went wrong for his unnamed brother. Then after refusing to answer any questions he declares that it will all be that WPCs fault if the brother murders them all tomorrow and storms out. And I'm thinking "I wouldn't do this job for all the tea in China"
I fill in a form and it turns out the name and reg no of the van are OK so maybe there is a mistake in the phone number or he's stonewalling. Fortunately the police are v helpful and it looks like he has nowhere to hide even if he is denying all knowledge. TOmorrow (well today now!) I'm trying to cadge some wheels and a few hours off work and go and search for his number plate in the gutter and do a quick sacn past the address and see if there is a smacked up Transit there.
Its like 2 in the morning and I can't go to bed because I'm just so hyper from all the stress and the hassle of running around to police station and facing the fact that at the worst I could have a £3000 car (which ain't a lot but I don't want to gut the life savings to replace it when it wasn't my fault) destroyed with no money back and it would be like the bloke just broke into my house and stole it in cash.
Really really gutted because I loved that car and I was proud of an unblemished record which has gone and not my bloody fault! You know if I was to blame and going too fast or something I could look at myself and say "learn from this" but I was following the end of a line of cars through a residental street at night and get hit by the bullet I didn't see.
Well fed up - had to vent that, cheers
Coop
![]()
Bang - "Christ I think, something's hit me in the nearside". Then I think "of for ****'s sake I've never had a smack and some **** has gone and ruined that for me." Then I think "**** that's a ****ing huge Chevy van parked on the side of the road".
Fortunately the hands and feet have decided that bypassing the brain is the best plan and my hands are rapidly applying opposite lock while I look at them and think "whose hands are they?". Feet stay off the pedals so I turn through 180 up the kerb. When I look around a white van (aren't they all...) has jumped a give way at a T-junction and is frantically back-pedalling in to the side street, I can't open the drivers door because there is a garden fence and the passenger door is staved in and won't open. Somehow the car has slid between the fence and the parked Chevy van and when I finally exit through the drivers window and fall into someones front garden it becomes clear that there is an air gap of about 1 1/2" between my rear wing and the Chevy's rear wing and the van has been missed. Later on it dawns that the instincts from years of RWD might have saved me from a nasty one, if I'd started sawing at the wheel and slamming the brake pedal down I might have gone straight on into the parked Chevy van and I think the instincts were trying to hold it sideways and drift away from it.
The van driver admits it is his fault - then after details are exchanged he changes his mind. Apparently I was doing about 65 in a 30. I point out that
A - if he saw this then why did he pull out regardless and
B - Since he clearly didn't see me until the big bang or he wouldn't have driven into me how does he know precisely what I was doing before he ****ed me over.
(And for the record I was doing 35 and following someone else)
So my beloved MR-2 is certainly written off. And I am really bloody annoyed. Really bloody annoyed because all the inconveience and expense is down to one ****s inability to follow the rules of the road.
The nearside wing is crumpled in, the door is staved in, the rear wing is destroyed, the sill welds have failed at the rear wheel end and the rear alloy is scratched beyond repair. There's a dent on the other front wing where I've hit a fence and broke some panels. Also when I limp home the nearside rear wheel really feels bad like a drive shaft is bent.
Fortuantely a couple of things happen in my favour. Firstly the couple who own the house and the Chevy come out and hear the van driver admit responsibility. Then when he changes his tune, two club members who were about 15 minutes behind me on the road pull up and the van driver starts looking at his feet. Then a police car on the way to a domestic stops and when he starts "he was doing about 75 mph" (yeah, strange how stories grow in the telling...) they put him right about it being his fault with a Give Way sign ignored.
THe club members follow me home since happily they only live around the corner.
I have the address and phone no. of the van driver and the householder but didn't exchange insurers at the time. So I ring the van driver since I now have my docs to hand and guess what
"Sorry mate, he doesn't live here".
To be fair the guy who answered the phone and probably got dragged out of bed didn't sound one bit like the van driver.
OK, time for a panic. He could have given totally false details, there might be mistake in the phone number or he might be stonewalling behind the phone. So it's off the local police station and at this point I really realise that Jezebel the Mister Two won't be making another trip under her own steam ever again. Fortunately it's only a 4 mile round trip and it's gone midnight so i can trot along at about 20mph.
I get stuck in the queue behind a bloke who wants to report his brother for threatening his parents for money but doesn't want to give either his name, brothers name, parents name or anybodies address in case it comes back to him. Despite this he can give the WPC on the desk about a 25 minutes account of his life and where it all went wrong for his unnamed brother. Then after refusing to answer any questions he declares that it will all be that WPCs fault if the brother murders them all tomorrow and storms out. And I'm thinking "I wouldn't do this job for all the tea in China"
I fill in a form and it turns out the name and reg no of the van are OK so maybe there is a mistake in the phone number or he's stonewalling. Fortunately the police are v helpful and it looks like he has nowhere to hide even if he is denying all knowledge. TOmorrow (well today now!) I'm trying to cadge some wheels and a few hours off work and go and search for his number plate in the gutter and do a quick sacn past the address and see if there is a smacked up Transit there.
Its like 2 in the morning and I can't go to bed because I'm just so hyper from all the stress and the hassle of running around to police station and facing the fact that at the worst I could have a £3000 car (which ain't a lot but I don't want to gut the life savings to replace it when it wasn't my fault) destroyed with no money back and it would be like the bloke just broke into my house and stole it in cash.
Really really gutted because I loved that car and I was proud of an unblemished record which has gone and not my bloody fault! You know if I was to blame and going too fast or something I could look at myself and say "learn from this" but I was following the end of a line of cars through a residental street at night and get hit by the bullet I didn't see.
Well fed up - had to vent that, cheers
Coop
