My Wheels Are Gone Blues
In February of 2003, I got into a car accident; as I was crossing traffic, a car, obscurbed by the sun, T-boned me at about 35 mph. I did a couple of 360's and wound up in the median. I hit my head against the window and rubbed off a good chunk of skin. Other than that I was okay.
My car was totaled, though, and I could tell from a cursory glance that the other car was history, too. The airbags were deployed, and through the thick cloud of airbag powder, I could see the head of a confused and dazed old lady wobbling around inside. Ah, God, I thought... Not an elderly person. Anything but an elderly person. I walked across the street to talk to her, but I don't remember what I said. What do you say to a person after you've just rammed cars? As I approached her car, I noticed a big brass "L" on the crumpled hood. Was that "L"... for... Lexus? A Lexus?! Oh, sweet Jesus. A LEXUS?!?!
A black clawed hand gripped my heart and squeezed. I suddenly remembered my insurance had just lapsed a little over a week ago. I had no insurance. In Tennessee, if you're involved in an accident without insurance, you're automatically at fault.
There was a brief impulse to run, to just run home (it was only about five blocks away, where most wrecks occur). But two men had already stopped and were calling the police on their cell phone. They were rednecks, but they were well-meaning. They seemed to take a lot of enjoyment in studying the wrecks, noticing the zones of impact and remarking on the damage. "Ya'll musta been goin' over the speed limit fer this kinda damage ta be done." I shrugged. I wasn't the one going over the speed limit. I was pulling out of a gas station... I could only have been going 15 MPH at the most.
It took about half an hour, but the cop finally showed up. He seemed disinterested in the whole thing, like he was ready to just hurry up, write the ticket, and leave. I could see his eyes droop defeatedly when I quietly mentioned I had no insurance. Nothing's ever easy, I guess, especially for cops. Oh, well. I was the one about to be royally screwed, without K-Y. What's a few more minutes added on to his workday?
The old lady and I sat in our cars and waited for the cop to finish writing his ticket. The lady was in the clear. I was crossing traffic and I had no insurance. I was obviously at fault. I cursed my luck, cursed my day, cursed my future. A Lexus. Totalled. No insurance. Visions of lawsuits and lawyers loomed ahead.
As I was in the middle of cursing my existence, I recognized my friend Jerre's SUV drive by. It was him and his girlfriend. They slowed down to check out the wreck, noticed it was me, and pulled over into the gas station. I ran across the street. Jerre rolled down his window, and I could see his big ugly smile with his ugly blue tooth. "Damn, man. Having a bad day?" I nodded and explained the incident to him. He shook his head in sympathy. I told him, "I just want to get home, hit my bong, and forget about everything." Jerre reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle. "Here, take a few Xanax, they'll help you calm down." Aware of the officer only fifty feet away, I sneakily swallowed the two pills and took a swig of his Sprite. "We were on our way home, but we can wait with you until the wrecker gets here." It was a little cold, so I walked over to my car, gathered a few of my scattered things, and waited in Jerre's SUV until the wrecker arrived.
I had him tow the Buick back to my place, where it sat in my driveway for a good three or four months. Whenever it rained, the car would flood with water. When I finally got rid of it, there was about four inches of rain water covering the floorboard and in the crevises of the seats. It was full of dead leaves, twigs, and muck. But that day I just sat there on my couch, reading my new Batman comic books, pretty much zoned out on nerve pills. The Flying Fallini's in my stomach had finally taken a rest, and I pondered the coming doom ahead.
That was a cold, evil winter. I had to walk the mile back and forth to work in the razor-blade wind. I didn't actually mind the walk too much... I had been doing a lot of walking after the wreck (I even hiked three and a half miles across the suburban neighborhoods on top of Lookout Mountain). It was the lawsuit looming over the horizon that chilled my blood more than the cold. I owed $13,330. Thirteen thousand dollars. THIRTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. I ended up meeting with a collection agency representative, and we agreed on an out-of-court settlement of bi-weekly payments of $50. That's a hundred dollars a month. Do the math: that's $100 a month, for 303 months, which means I'll still be paying on this debt 25 and 1/4 years from now. I'll be FIFTY YEARS OLD, and the old lady will be LONG DEAD. I pray a meteor will fall from heaven and level that damn collection agency's building.
Flash forward almost two years later. I'm living in Xenia, and I go to get my Ohio driver's license. The lady behind the counter tells me my Tennessee license is revoked. Revoked?! What a surprise. I hadn't paid a single dime to that collection agency for over 24 months. Of course they were going to penalize me.
I continued to drive without a license for about six months before my mom totally freaked out and forbade me to drive. She insisted on driving me to work, which I didn't mind at all. When she dropped me off at home I simply hopped into my car and did my business then. But then her car's rear brakes went out, and she told me she needed to use my car until she could get her's fixed. And that's when the suckness began to set in.
I have no license, and no car. Therefore, I have no life. Have you ever tried laying your mack down when you don't have wheels to back you up? It's why they invented the word "pointless". Have you ever met a girl who willingly went out on a date with a guy who had to have his mom drop him off? If you have, introduce me...
In order to get my license back, I have to send the collection agency $600. Then he'll send a piece of paper asking the insurance company to send the Tennessee Bureau of Safety a release from contract stating they can re-instate my license. Not only that, I have to send $190 to the Tenn Bureau of Safety just to process the damn thing. So I need about $800 dollars just to get the ball rolling.
Plus utility bills, cell phone bills, grocery bills, rent...
Sometimes I just feel like changing my name to Raoul and making a run for Mexico or Brazil.
It's been almost two months and I haven't had my car. If I want smokes or a beer, I have to walk to the store in the freezing Ohio cold. I don't know if you've ever seen an Ohio winter, but it's ugly as sin: bleak gray skies, icy rain, fierce, slicing wind... Pretty amazing what a smoker will go through in order to get his nic-fix.
I can't drive to my favorite get-away, a little hippy town called Yellow Springs, about ten minutes south of here. Home to Antioch College, a liberal arts school with hundreds of creative writing and graphic arts co-eds. Hot, artsy chicks. You can't get any better than that. But it's all denied me... That ten minute drive has become an ocean... all because of one stupid jack-ass mistake I made two years ago...
I actually enjoy going to work now because it gets me out of the house. All I do these days is sit at home and read. I must've read at least 15 books in the past 8 weeks. Not that that's a bad thing, but I'd much rather be OUTSIDE than stuck in a house all by myself with nothing but a book and a television to keep me company.
At least I get to update this meaningless blog frequently.
Oh, well. It'll take some time, maybe a quicky second job at Wal-Mart, the Beelzebub of affordable retail. But in the end, anything is worth getting my wheels back. Anything.
My car was totaled, though, and I could tell from a cursory glance that the other car was history, too. The airbags were deployed, and through the thick cloud of airbag powder, I could see the head of a confused and dazed old lady wobbling around inside. Ah, God, I thought... Not an elderly person. Anything but an elderly person. I walked across the street to talk to her, but I don't remember what I said. What do you say to a person after you've just rammed cars? As I approached her car, I noticed a big brass "L" on the crumpled hood. Was that "L"... for... Lexus? A Lexus?! Oh, sweet Jesus. A LEXUS?!?!
A black clawed hand gripped my heart and squeezed. I suddenly remembered my insurance had just lapsed a little over a week ago. I had no insurance. In Tennessee, if you're involved in an accident without insurance, you're automatically at fault.
There was a brief impulse to run, to just run home (it was only about five blocks away, where most wrecks occur). But two men had already stopped and were calling the police on their cell phone. They were rednecks, but they were well-meaning. They seemed to take a lot of enjoyment in studying the wrecks, noticing the zones of impact and remarking on the damage. "Ya'll musta been goin' over the speed limit fer this kinda damage ta be done." I shrugged. I wasn't the one going over the speed limit. I was pulling out of a gas station... I could only have been going 15 MPH at the most.
It took about half an hour, but the cop finally showed up. He seemed disinterested in the whole thing, like he was ready to just hurry up, write the ticket, and leave. I could see his eyes droop defeatedly when I quietly mentioned I had no insurance. Nothing's ever easy, I guess, especially for cops. Oh, well. I was the one about to be royally screwed, without K-Y. What's a few more minutes added on to his workday?
The old lady and I sat in our cars and waited for the cop to finish writing his ticket. The lady was in the clear. I was crossing traffic and I had no insurance. I was obviously at fault. I cursed my luck, cursed my day, cursed my future. A Lexus. Totalled. No insurance. Visions of lawsuits and lawyers loomed ahead.
As I was in the middle of cursing my existence, I recognized my friend Jerre's SUV drive by. It was him and his girlfriend. They slowed down to check out the wreck, noticed it was me, and pulled over into the gas station. I ran across the street. Jerre rolled down his window, and I could see his big ugly smile with his ugly blue tooth. "Damn, man. Having a bad day?" I nodded and explained the incident to him. He shook his head in sympathy. I told him, "I just want to get home, hit my bong, and forget about everything." Jerre reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle. "Here, take a few Xanax, they'll help you calm down." Aware of the officer only fifty feet away, I sneakily swallowed the two pills and took a swig of his Sprite. "We were on our way home, but we can wait with you until the wrecker gets here." It was a little cold, so I walked over to my car, gathered a few of my scattered things, and waited in Jerre's SUV until the wrecker arrived.
I had him tow the Buick back to my place, where it sat in my driveway for a good three or four months. Whenever it rained, the car would flood with water. When I finally got rid of it, there was about four inches of rain water covering the floorboard and in the crevises of the seats. It was full of dead leaves, twigs, and muck. But that day I just sat there on my couch, reading my new Batman comic books, pretty much zoned out on nerve pills. The Flying Fallini's in my stomach had finally taken a rest, and I pondered the coming doom ahead.
That was a cold, evil winter. I had to walk the mile back and forth to work in the razor-blade wind. I didn't actually mind the walk too much... I had been doing a lot of walking after the wreck (I even hiked three and a half miles across the suburban neighborhoods on top of Lookout Mountain). It was the lawsuit looming over the horizon that chilled my blood more than the cold. I owed $13,330. Thirteen thousand dollars. THIRTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. I ended up meeting with a collection agency representative, and we agreed on an out-of-court settlement of bi-weekly payments of $50. That's a hundred dollars a month. Do the math: that's $100 a month, for 303 months, which means I'll still be paying on this debt 25 and 1/4 years from now. I'll be FIFTY YEARS OLD, and the old lady will be LONG DEAD. I pray a meteor will fall from heaven and level that damn collection agency's building.
Flash forward almost two years later. I'm living in Xenia, and I go to get my Ohio driver's license. The lady behind the counter tells me my Tennessee license is revoked. Revoked?! What a surprise. I hadn't paid a single dime to that collection agency for over 24 months. Of course they were going to penalize me.
I continued to drive without a license for about six months before my mom totally freaked out and forbade me to drive. She insisted on driving me to work, which I didn't mind at all. When she dropped me off at home I simply hopped into my car and did my business then. But then her car's rear brakes went out, and she told me she needed to use my car until she could get her's fixed. And that's when the suckness began to set in.
I have no license, and no car. Therefore, I have no life. Have you ever tried laying your mack down when you don't have wheels to back you up? It's why they invented the word "pointless". Have you ever met a girl who willingly went out on a date with a guy who had to have his mom drop him off? If you have, introduce me...
In order to get my license back, I have to send the collection agency $600. Then he'll send a piece of paper asking the insurance company to send the Tennessee Bureau of Safety a release from contract stating they can re-instate my license. Not only that, I have to send $190 to the Tenn Bureau of Safety just to process the damn thing. So I need about $800 dollars just to get the ball rolling.
Plus utility bills, cell phone bills, grocery bills, rent...
Sometimes I just feel like changing my name to Raoul and making a run for Mexico or Brazil.
It's been almost two months and I haven't had my car. If I want smokes or a beer, I have to walk to the store in the freezing Ohio cold. I don't know if you've ever seen an Ohio winter, but it's ugly as sin: bleak gray skies, icy rain, fierce, slicing wind... Pretty amazing what a smoker will go through in order to get his nic-fix.
I can't drive to my favorite get-away, a little hippy town called Yellow Springs, about ten minutes south of here. Home to Antioch College, a liberal arts school with hundreds of creative writing and graphic arts co-eds. Hot, artsy chicks. You can't get any better than that. But it's all denied me... That ten minute drive has become an ocean... all because of one stupid jack-ass mistake I made two years ago...
I actually enjoy going to work now because it gets me out of the house. All I do these days is sit at home and read. I must've read at least 15 books in the past 8 weeks. Not that that's a bad thing, but I'd much rather be OUTSIDE than stuck in a house all by myself with nothing but a book and a television to keep me company.
At least I get to update this meaningless blog frequently.
Oh, well. It'll take some time, maybe a quicky second job at Wal-Mart, the Beelzebub of affordable retail. But in the end, anything is worth getting my wheels back. Anything.
posted by Billy at 12:50 PM
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