His Pappy Said, 'Son, You're Gonna Drive Me T' Drinkin' ...
If You Don't Quit Drivin' That - Hot ... Rod ... Lincoln!'
Well, five months of ownership, and "Little Nellie" suffers her first major mishap - not her fault - at the hands of an idiot driver who thought passing me at 35 mph, on a one-lane residential street with cars parked on both sides was a really SMART maneuver.
I'm fine - banged the inside of my left knee against the front cowling & I'm going to have a bruise shaped like Manhattan Island in a day or two - POSSIBLY some minor whiplash; hard to say at the moment, since everything is pretty well clenched up, but otherwise okay.
Little Nellie, unfortunately didn't come away quite so unscathed:
She's got a busted rear fender, busted tail light (lamp still works), busted rear body cover, bent muffler pipe & mounting - and that's just what I can ascertain from a visual inspection. Otherwise, she appears minimally driveable, but there's no telling whether the frame or rear wheel suffered damage until I can get her in for an insurance estimate later this week.
Yeah, at least one of us was insured.
So, quick, detailed account:
I had just dropped off the evening's office mail at the post office about a block from where I live, and was literally 100 yards from parking when a white early/mid-1980's Cadillac or Lincoln comes up from behind and proceeds to try to pass on my left, on - as previously stated - essentially a one-lane street with cars parked on both sides. Needless to say, he clipped my back end, driving his front bumper into Nellie's nether regions. Fortunately, he slowed down enough to allow me to get untangled from his front end, and stop. As soon as I hop off the bike, I've got my Zire out of my haversack and the camera at-ready.
"You okay?" he says, he and his two buddies getting out of their car.
"Yeah, I'm okay, but my scooter - "
"Aw, can't we just forget it?"
The kid has just rear-ended me, practically run me over, made a mess of my brand-spanking new bike - AND HE WANTS ME TO FORGET ABOUT IT?????
"Dude! You just hit me! Less than a block from where I live! In front of my neighbors!" (a couple of whom, having heard the noise, are coming out of their houses - Good. Witnesses.)
"So, I guess we better exchange insurance, huh?"
"Um. Don't got any."
Okay, right there you know this isn't going to end well, no matter what.
"Right." I take a photo of the front of his car:
- making sure to get a clear view of his license plate. By this time other cars are backing up behind us, and the horns are starting to honk (keep in mind, most of these drivers are now getting upset, because the "shortcut" they thought they were taking to avoid the traffic light half a block away has now become something less than time-saving).
"Um, why don't we pull over and do this?" he says.
Yep, I smell the rat. But, I've already got him pegged with a description, and a photo of the plate, so even if he decides to run, he's screwed.
I hop back on Nellie, and move her over to the curb. By this time, Dude and his buddies have gotten back into their car and -
"I'll be right back!" he shouts, driving off down the street, and turning at the end of the block.
Okay, now MAYBE he's just going to go around the block. MAYBE he'll come back. MAYBE I was born with an extra appendage. Unfortunately, none of those are true.
"Did he just drive off?" one of the neighbors who's been watching all this asks, incredulous.
"Sure looks that way," I reply, pulling out my cellphone and dialing 911.
When the police officer arrived about fifteen minutes later, and heard the story, all he could do was to shake his head in wonder, "Why does this always happen right before I'm supposed to go home?"
Hey, Officer Williams, I can relate.
on 6:20 PM