The Diary of A Simple Man

To sum up: we were rear-ended tonight in Franklin. We were in an intersection, waiting for the oncoming traffic to clear so we could make a left turn. A woman hit us pretty hard from behind. Sebastian started crying.

The woman drove down the street and pulled over. Then she drove about a quarter-mile down the road. After a while, she turned around and pulled over in front of our car. I'd called the police, and they showed up fairly quickly.

Teri had a headache, and my neck hurts quite a bit. Sebastian's okay. The back section of our car is detached from the body on the right-hand side, but it doesn't look too awful. I'll be filing an accident report tomorrow.

I talked to Allstate, our insurer. Lest anyone wonder: Allstate sucks, Allstate sucks, Allstate sucks. We're out a $500 deductible, and then after that they'll see if they can recover the money from the woman's insurance company and reimburse us. The Allstate rep was less than helpful.

The car's broken again. It seems to be the alternator again; the battery and engine lights are on continuously. I'm not sure how I'll get to work on Monday. This is basically insane.

I guess Teri will try to drive it into the shop on Monday. If it breaks down, we'll have to call for a tow. The one thing I'm hoping is that it doesn't cost much (if anything) to fix, and that it will finally be fixed permanently.

Oh, wait, I just noticed that I hadn't mentioned it: this is the third time since the 18th that we've had this problem. The alternator died and was replaced on the 18th; three or four days later, it died again because it turned out to be defective (and so I lost a day of work); and now, well, you know.

I'm starting to lose faith in our mechanic.

Now that I know that I didn't lose the interest of 95% of my flist, I'm amazed at how much better I feel. In a way, it's a little disturbing.

We also just got our car (which had been making scary smells and noises for a while) fixed, and the damage wasn't too severe; under $400. That's still bad, but we can scrape it together.

But all in all, I'm definitely feeling up. Best of all, now I can write in my journal without feeling like a whore! And one that nobody wanted to hire, mind you.

One more post, then bedtime for me.

This is not going to be a long entry, because who wants to hear me talk about the weather? Nobody.

Okay, I can't resist saying it - no, I'm going to resist. Self-depreciation can be funny (I hope), but I know I carry it way too far.

Anyway, the weathermen last night (Thursday) were warning of a high-energy winter storm on the way. It was going to hit around 6 AM, and dump a lot of snow on our region over the next eight hours or so.

Teri and I talked about it, talked about the possibility of me not going in to work on Friday. I suggested we wait and see; maybe my company would call a snow day.

No such luck. As we started out from the house, the snow was just starting to come down, thick and fast. Teri was worried, and so was I. She suggested to Sebastian that she might not take him to school, and he immediately burst out sobbing - big fat tears practically burst out of his eyes.

"I want to see my friends!" he sobbed.

Time was tight, but we made it to the train. The ride in was uneventful. When I got out at Ruggles, though, the company shuttle wasn't there. A bunch of fellow employees were standing around, freezing and getting caked in a remarkably thick layer of snow - I'm not kidding, it was half an inch thick at least. After a couple of minutes the shuttle pulled in and we clambered aboard.

The roads were getting bad, so the trip took a slightly longer than usual. When we pulled up to the building, though, the van door wouldn't open. The driver tried and tried, but it was absolutely stuck. It couldn't have been frozen shut; it wasn't that cold. But even though he tried the emergency handle over and over, and another driver came over and helped him pull on the door, it wouldn't budge at all.

So eventually they had us all go out through the driver's-side door. That required sitting behind the wheel, a tight fit while fully laden with bags (as most of us were), but eventually we all got out and headed into work.

I hoped that would be the most exciting part of the day. It wasn't.

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I'll go to sleep soon. But I am trying to decide what I want to write next. Don't know if I'll figure it out tonight, but it's definitely high on my list of priorities. Because there's no question in my mind that I'm happier when I have a story going. It gives me something to think about, something challenging.

Recently the thought occurred to me that if I assume that some (or all) of my stories have no chance for publication, that frees me to write things that I'd really enjoy, but wouldn't normally consider doing - for example, a new story using Poul Anderson and Gordon R. Dickson's Hokas. The idea hit me that it might be interesting to do a story about a serious Hoka - one with no real imagination, or no more imagination than a normal human. Might be amusing, though I'd need to work out an angle.

We'll see.

I didn't write about this when it happened on Wednesday evening. But it's the reason I stayed up until midnight that night and finished "Grand Obsession".

Normally Teri and Sebastian pick me up at the train station in the evening. But on Wednesday I made a mistake and thought that I was having dinner with my father and brother that night. For some reason I completely forgot that my father had called a few days earlier and told me that we needed to reschedule. Brain glitch, I guess.

Anyway, Teri had left our car at the station for me to drive home (her mother drove there with her and took her out to dinner after). I took the train home; it was earlier than I had expected (if dinner had happened), but later than normal. I found the car, hopped in, and headed home.

As I was driving, my cell phone rang.

Now, I want to emphasize that I did NOT take my eyes off the road. I reached for the phone in my jacket pocket, but was still watching the road.

And that's when a large dog, probably a golden retriever, jumped out from between two parked cars - straight in front of my car.

I slammed on the brakes, but I'd had almost no warning at all; he'd jumped out less than ten feet from me. Fortunately I wasn't going at all fast. But still, I hit him fairly hard as I came to a stop.

I don't think he went down; if he did, he was up again almost instantly. He was carrying something large, a newspaper I think, and he didn't drop it. But there was a definite "thump", and I'm pretty sure I felt the impact. But the tires didn't go over him; as far as I can tell he was simply hit by the front of my car (and when I checked it later, the car had no damage at all).

Whether he was knocked down or not, a second later he ran across the street, across a yard, and was out of sight. I saw no sign of a limp. So I started up again and drove home.

I was pretty upset, although I'd have been much more upset if I'd killed him or visibly hurt him. Teri called back, and I didn't treat her well; she told me I should call the police, and I freaked out a little.

By the time I got home I was a little numb and pretty angry. There's a leash law in that town, damn it! Dogs are supposed to be tied up.

And then I thought, "suppose that the dog's owner was just a boy, like Sebastian, who wanted his dog to run free a little?"

That made me feel bad, I can tell you!

But on top of it all I was weirded out; the similarities between what had happened and "Grand Obsession" weren't shockingly close, but they were close enough to freak me out.

And that's why I ended up staying up and finishing the story that night. I couldn't sleep.

Incidentally, I didn't post about the dog on Wednesday or Thursday because I didn't want to bump "Grand Obsession" from the top of my journal; didn't want to do anything that might reduce the chance of getting some feedback.

Pathetic, huh?

This morning we discovered that someone had gone into our car overnight. They'd opened the glove compartment and thrown everything around; the car was generally messed up. They stole a few dollars and all Teri's loose change, except for the pennies.

On the plus side, they did no real damage. And Teri is now convinced of the wisdom of locking up the car overnight. This is something I've mentioned to her for quite a while, but I guess a thief is more effective than I am, when it comes to convincing Teri.

Teri was initially going to report the event to the police, but eventually decided not to bother.

Sebastian was a little perturbed by the whole thing, incidentally. He asked why the person took things from our car, and I said "To buy bad medicine." (Given our neighborhood, it's a virtual certainty that the thief was an addict.)

"Why didn't he just ask us?" Sebastian replied.

What a boy.

Teri just called. The Nissan's "Service Engine Soon" light just came on. According to her mechanic, that means we have to have the manifold intake valve replaced NOW. $800.

On top of $5,000 yesterday for the furnace. AND $225 yesterday to have the main drain line unclogged. And the flashing replacement on the roof which could cost from $300-$500.

We have a 2001 Nissan Altima with about 90,000 miles on it. Teri has been scrupulous about having all maintainance done. So why does the intake manifold need to be replaced, at a cost of $800 or more?

Conclusion: Nissan sucks. Next time we get a Honda or Toyota.

I was in the shuttle bus this morning, heading in to work. We were stopped at a red light. Suddenly...

THUMP! S C R A P E....

I looked down, and saw that a small convertible BMW had gone around us, but the driver had misjudged. The BMW had hit us and scraped badly against our van's left rear corner. The entire length of the right side of the BMW was damaged. A piece was hanging off of it; it looked like a gas cap, but it was on the front right-hand side. I don't know what it was.

"Nice car," I said. "Well, it was a nice car." People laughed.

The BMW went ahead of us while we tried to see the license plate (New York CXC9398, I believe), but after the next light the driver turned left into a side-street, stopped, and got out. She was a blond girl in her twenties, looking remarkably calm.

We sat around for about ten minutes while information was exchanged and all that, and then we proceeded on to work. I was the only passenger curious enough to go back and look at the damage to the van; one little side-light was gone, and there was a little paint scraped off the bumper. There might also have been a little damage, but to be honest it looked as if the bumper had been hit (not too hard) before, so it was hard to judge.

I can only imagine how much it's going to cost to repair that BMW, though.

Funny, I've now been in accidents (one way or another) with THREE extremely expensive cars. The first day that I went driving after getting my license I was rammed from behind by a red convertible MG; when I was in my early twenties a Rolls Royce skidded on ice, plunged across the street, spun around, and rammed me backwards; and now this. I suppose next it'll be a Lexus, or something.

This is a followup to "Getting In Trouble Again".

I wasn't banned, and the "Super Moderator" didn't apologize - I was basically told to chill out.

I found that a bit offensive, because I wasn't...um...not chilled, whatever the hell that means. Still, it seems wiser to let it go. As I've gotten older, I've gotten less and less interested in conflict.

On the other hand, my temper still surprises me sometimes. Yesterday some idiot started beeping and gesturing at us from his car, and I was instantly in a state of berserk fury. I found myself snarling, and smacked my fist into the palm of my other hand with what was, to me, amazing speed. I don't normally do that - in fact I never do - and it wasn't a conscious decision.

Apparently I scared the guy, because he took off. At the moment, I half-hoped he'd stop his car and get out, because I was spoiling for a fight.

Damn good thing he didn't stop, though. I'd probably have broken my hand, and almost certainly would have been arrested.

Okay, no. I would probably have yelled a bit, and then backed down. But who knows? I still surprise myself, sometimes.

On a totally unrelated note, I just finished re-reading Leave It To Psmith by P.G. Wodehouse. I hadn't read it in twenty years, and was surprised at how good it was. It's remarkably funny, and there are no dull spots at all. I found myself laughing out loud frequently. Amazing!