This Oughta Be Fun.

I need a new car.  Not because I want one.  Not because I want to give up a perfectly reliable, good looking, completely paid off car, but because someone T-boned us on Peachtree Street last Saturday.  My neck, shoulders and upper back have been sore all week, and Melissa has a bruised knee and seat belt bruises but right now, I don’t think we’ll be filing a personal injury claim. It was a hard impact, but the Panzer we were driving kept us pretty safe.

It was wholly the idiot’s other driver’s fault.  Damn suburbanite didn’t know where he was and decided that because he had a green light (but no green arrow), he could just turn left across one of the busiest intersections in Midtown Atlanta without looking.  He hit me.  Yes, me.  The nose of his car crushed in the driver side door and front wheel well.

The only person more daft was the officer, who didn’t cite the man for several infractions, including failure to yield to oncoming traffic and no proof of insurance.  I think the cop took pity on the other driver, who walked with 2 canes and looked like he had MS or MD or something.

Thankfully, the idiot guy had insurance, just not current proof.  So, I’ll be sure to have some stories in the next week or so as I engage in two of the most hated transactions: dealing with a claims adjuster for the at-fault party to value my car, which he decided was a total loss; and dealing with used car salesmen and/or private party car sellers who all think their car is a creampuff and the best example of that model out there.  Two sides of the same coin.  It should be fun. And by fun I mean annoying as hell.