Other Stuff–Clod of the Day

by Lynn on April 10, 2016

in The Passionate Playgoer

Clod of the Day.

I was at a friend’s house watching Transparent because I don’t get that station and he does. I was also marveling how he can have two cases of diet coke and a jar of something called “The Best Caesar Salad Dressing” and nothing else in his fridge. I locked up and checked that all was as pristine as I found it.

I was stopped at the ‘yield’ sign of the two streets that converge at the bottom of his street, checking the traffic for on-coming cars, when I was rammed from behind. Stop that!! I mean of course that was hit from behind, by a Jeep. I have a wonderful 17 year old Toyota Corolla. The insurance company does not want to fix/repair such cars that have suffered the ignominy of an accident caused by someone else, such as this ‘Clod of the Day.’ I was not happy about this ramming and what would surely be damage.

I got out of the car; slammed the door in irritation; saw that the front bumper of the Jeep was affixed to the left side of the back bumper of my poor Toyota. It looked to me as if there was crunched damage to my bumper and perhaps more damage done to the Jeep. I looked up to see the woman driver get out of her offensive Jeep and whip out her cell phone to say that she would take a picture of the damage. She was stylishly dressed in black with a black hat that came down to mid-forehead. “I’ll take a picture of your insurance and driver’s license.” And she did with her top-of-the-line cell phone. I couldn’t take a copy of her stuff with my cell phone because it’s so old and I still don’t know how to use it. Instead, I took a picture of the damage with my camera, which I always carry in case I might need it if there might be a nice sunset.

I copied down all her information, except her phone number or e-mail I was so flustered, but then again, neither did she. I did note from her address that she lived in my friend’s apartment building. I said that we would have to report this to the police, not that we would need to call then, but we have to report it to the Collision Reporting Centre. She seemed to waffle there.

I got brave and quietly asked: “Didn’t you see me stopping there?” She starred at me with just the slightest hint oincredulousness at such a question. And held the stare. And held it. In real life this is called a ‘pregnant pause.’ In the theatre, with good actors, of which she was not, it is called ‘a dramatic pause.’ I stared back, not breaking the gaze. She finally said that she thought I was moving. I said I was not. That I was stopped. Our business done we both got into our vehicles. I slowly pulled away and heard the crunching, grinding sound of heavy material disconnecting from heavy material.

I drove away, really upset, first at the accident in the first place, and the fact that not once did this Clod of the Day indicate any regret or concern if I was ok or not. I’m adaptable to my surroundings. I didn’t ask of her either. In society we have that wonderful ‘civil grease’ smeared on our shoulders so that we can glide smoothly through society. This woman only had a snotty sense of entitlement and no civil grease. I assume she grinded her way through society using that condescending stare instead.

When I got home and checked the damage there were only scrape marks on my bumper. No dents. No not cracked bumper or side damage. Nothing. Bless the Toyota Company. No visit for me to the Collision Reporting folks. I hope that Jeep requires repairs.

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