Sitting Ducks ... Are Good Targets Only if They Stay in Place and Behave as Expected

I had a small accident a couple of weeks ago, the third in almost 50 years of driving. It happened in my own driveway. I scraped the side of my car as I backed away from a tow truck that had been called to give me a jump-start. I was hurried and flustered and looking to the right to avoid my son’s car, parked beside me, and simply didn’t pay attention to what I was doing on the left. Damage to the truck was negligible; damage to my car was less than my deductible; damage to my self-esteem was massive. Although it was my third accident, it was the only one in which I was at fault.

The first accident happened about 20 years ago, when a large Mercedes slid sidewise on an icy road, brushed against my little Mazda and whipped me through a fence. The Mercedes drove on. I didn’t.

That was probably my first experience in being a true victim. Until then I had accepted (sometimes grudgingly) a share of the blame for most of the unpleasant moments of my life. Blame is an unpleasant burden, but shouldering it acknowledges that one is, at least, an active participant in the situation, and not a passive victim. I find it much easier to deal with being held accountable than with feeling helpless in the hands of capricious Fate.

I have always thought of myself as a fairly savvy person, able to cope with almost anything. I have traveled across a couple of continents, have no fear of being alone in strange places, and am not easily intimidated by adverse circumstances. I don’t find victim-hood to my liking. Scraping my car through my own carelessness wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t nearly as depressing as being the victim of a hit-and-run Mercedes.

Which brings us to my second accident. A few weeks ago, I was rear-ended while sitting at a red light. There was a car stopped on my right and a car stopped on my left in the left turn lane. When the woman hit me, hard, I was knocked about 20 feet into the intersection, and narrowly missed the cars from the feeder road, two lanes of traffic streaming onto the parkway with a green light. I sat for a moment, stunned, and then I got out of my car and walked back to look at the damage. Man, I thought, I was a sitting duck at that stoplight. The poor person who hit me is going have insurance rate hikes that go through the roof.

The other woman was standing in front of her car.

“Are you all right?” I asked

“Oh, my poor car!” she moaned. The front left fender was badly smashed in.

“Are you all right?” I repeated.

“Yeah,” she said. “You?”

I realized that my left shoulder was very sore, from the plunge into the seatbelt shoulder restraint. I moved it gently. Just sore, I thought, and said so. I didn’t want to claim instant injury and add to her distress.

The police came after a short while, and when the officer had checked our positions, he asked us to move to a nearby gas station. When I started to drive, I found that I was dragging the tailpipe and muffler, and the car was steering strangely. At the gas station, I went quickly to call my husband, who would be worrying about me because by then I was very late getting home. The officer began taking the other driver’s information while I called. When I came back and gave him my documents and report, he informed me that the other woman’s version of the story was different from mine. She claimed that the light had been green. Any sympathy I felt for her dissolved instantly.

“Then why were there cars stopped on both sides of us?” I asked her. She grinned at me.

“So sue me,” she laughed.

The officer intervened quickly. “I explained to her that since she ran into you from behind, it’s essentially her fault because one is supposed to maintain sufficient stopping distance, no matter what the circumstances,” he said. He turned to her. “Even if the light had been green, that wouldn’t give you the right to hit this woman.”

I was mildly grateful for his defense, but it didn’t take the sting out of her painting me as a foolish old lady who sits at green lights and causes accidents. I found myself wondering whether she would have told so bold a lie if I had not had a few gray hairs. I felt that I had become a sitting duck in more ways than one. I am now of a certain age, and look it. And much as I hate it, people feel they can treat me differently because of it. Some of my friends believe they receive such treatment just because they are female, but frankly, until I hit my late 50’s, I had very few problems commanding respect.

There were several witnesses to the accident who were not needed because it was clearly the other woman’s fault, but I found myself longing to find every one of them and have them attest to the color of that light. It’s a good thing I don’t have high blood pressure, because my sense of outrage was at stroke level. Princess Elizabeth under a car WWII

The woman’s insurance company, however, couldn’t have been nicer. They agreed to rent me a car for however long it took to fix mine, and when I explained that it would have to be an automobile with a trunk large enough to carry my mother’s wheelchair, they assured me that there would be no problem. I wrote down all the appropriate numbers and called a rental agency that would pick me up. I explained my special needs to the clerk at the rental desk, and he promised to send a car right over.

Two hours later, a driver in a bright red Neon showed up in my driveway. I took the Neon to be the driver’s transportation, but when we got to the agency, I was surprised to discover that it was my rental car. When I objected, and reminded the young clerk that I needed a car with a trunk large enough for my mother’s wheelchair, he cheerfully informed me that he had called the insurance company, and they would cover a compact car only. He added that I could certainly pay the difference if I wanted to. I insisted on calling the insurance company, and asked to use his phone.

“Oh,” he said, “I’ll call them for you.” He dialed some numbers, and after a short conversation, said cheerfully: “Well, you’re in luck; they’ve decided to pay for the larger car.”

“They decided that about six hours ago, when I called them,” I said quietly. He looked at me, smiled, and shrugged.

Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth II at work. (Image via War Archives)

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Sitting Ducks ... Are Good Targets Only if They Stay in Place and Behave as Expected

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