Yesterday evening, at ten o'clock, a middle-aged Vietnamese man drove his silver Sienna mini-van into the rear driver's side of my Jetta, crushing a good portion of the rear of my car and completely destroying the rear axle. I was no where near the car at the time of the accident. I was sitting on my couch watching TV and my car was parked, perfectly legally, on the street. We only found out that the car had be hit when we were greeted by a police officer at our door.
I'm pissed...and sad. I loved that car. It was my first real substantial adult purchase. I spent five years paying the damned thing off, and now, almost a year to the day after I've paid it off, this happens. So now they'll say it's totaled, write me a check for somewhere around five thousand dollars, and send me on my way, and I will have to go through the pain in the ass of buying a new used-car for less than half of what I spent for my Jetta. I felt like I had the car thing covered, at least for the foreseeable future. It was nine years old, but it was still in good shape.
So until I find out what the insurance companies have to say about the matter, I'm stuck playing a waiting game. And until this guy accepts liability for the accident, I don't even have a rental to drive because, yes, I am that cheap and wouldn't pay the eight dollars a month to have one covered under my own policy and I have to wait for his insurance carrier.