First of all, happy birthday to my nephew Jacob, who is 9 today...and who most likely isn’t getting a birthday card from his forgetful uncle, as I didn’t mail it until Saturday.
I’d stopped at a store on the way home on Friday to pick up a card, and I was puzzled to find that the place apparently had a strong anti-nephew bias.
It actually seemed to be a subset of a strong anti-male bias, as 99% of the cards there – of the ones that specified gender, at least – were for mothers, daughters, wives, granddaughters, sisters, aunts, and nieces.
I searched in vain for something appropriate until finally I noticed that at the very bottom, on the opposite side of where the birthday cards were supposed to be, they had exactly two birthday card options specifically geared towards nephews.
In any case, this morning my insurance company contacted me. I had to call the body shop that my insurance company works with to have them pick up the car in order to make an estimate, then call the place that the car was towed to release it to the body shop.
If it’s decided that the car can be fixed, my insurance company will pay the shop directly, though I’ll have to pay the deductible. However, once they’ve gotten the police report – which apparently takes an inordinate amount of time – they’ll contact the driver’s insurance company – assuming he had insurance – and they’ll have to refund my deductible.
If they total the car, which I’m guessing will happen, presumably I’ll be cut a check for five dollars, or be given three magic beans, or whatever pittance my car is actually worth at this point.
I’ve got rental coverage, but Scott can’t retrieve his car until Wednesday, and it’s hard enough to always find a space in front of my house for one car, so in the meantime I’ll just keep using his car and then get the rental on Wednesday.
As I suspect the car will be totaled, the odds are that I’ll be in the market for a new car, which I was sort of planning to do anyway, so I suppose ultimately it works out; I just don’t like having other people – especially drunk people – making my decisions for me.
Of course, the real question is “What car should Jon buy?”
I was planning to get something bigger than what I had, and was leaning strongly towards the Mazda CX-7, as it’s bigger, but not too big, and I just kind of like the look of it.
Of course, I also thought about going the hybrid route. Of the available options there, it seemed like the Ford Escape might be the best choice.
However, while doing some online research – before my car got smashed – I found that for about a thousand dollars more than what a rather basic Escape Hybrid would cost I could get a brand new, fully-loaded CX-7.
Of course, the CX-7 doesn’t have the greatest gas mileage, especially compared to the Escape Hybrid, so that was something else to consider.
Then again, if I scaled back on some of the options, I could still get a nicely equipped CX-7 for several thousand dollars less than the basic Escape Hybrid.
Further, I found a well-equipped 2007 CX-7 at Carmax for several thousand dollars less than that.
(The 2007 was, apparently, used by a rental company, and only has 14,000 miles on it.)
Of course, the decision about the Escape Hybrid was rendered moot by the fact that, apparently, no dealership in the area actually has any.
Still, to complicate things further, I remembered that a few years back on one of my trips home the rental car I had was a Hyundai Tucson, and I rather liked it. It’s a suitable size, and a brand new one would be even cheaper than the used CX-7.
I’m not really sure what to do. Hmm...maybe I do want someone to make my decisions for me.
Then again, I might not need to, as there’s always the outside chance that they will actually opt to fix my car.
Of course, then I’m just back to square one and having to decide if I do want to put up with car payments again and get a new car.
Why does everything have to be such a pain in the ass?
In any case, as I’ve mentioned to a few people, while I am pissed that my car got hit, I’m glad that it was just my car that got hurt and not a person, or, in particular, a kid. Especially since I actually know a few kids that live in that neighborhood. The thought that some drunk could have just as easily run over Vicki, or Zoe, or Scarlett puts the damage to my car – and the aforementioned ass pain – into perspective.