Friday, March 13, 2009

Of all the ways to break a nail...

This has to be one of the strangest. Strange enough to actually tell anyone “I broke a nail.”


On the evening of March 12, 2009 I was headed home after dinner and coffee with the folks. It had been raining most of the night before and a good part of Thursday too. At the time though, the rain had subsided.


I was roughly one quarter of a mile and two right turns away from my driveway when all this went down.


As I approached the last stop sign before turning onto my street a car made a southbound turn towards me. The turn looked a little wide at first so I focused my attention to it immediately. It was the only vehicle in front of me. I checked my rear view mirror and saw one pair of headlights behind me.


Looking towards the oncoming traffic again, I realize the car that made the wide turn is now wholly across the double yellow lines headed straight for me. I approximate my speed around 25 mph. The disbelief and doubt kick in causing a thought process about two things. One, why are these people driving like this? Two, is this really about to happen?


You see, earlier in the day I experienced no less than three separate incidences of bizarre driving that had the feel of people road raging and that somehow this oncoming bit-o-fun was haphazardly directed towards me. Don’t ask why but after three memorable oddities that day this one had the feel of the others. Sort of like “Are you really wanting to play chicken on a residential street tonight?” kind of feel to it.

I digress.

As the distance between us closes rapidly I am hard on the brakes pulling over to the right thinking, “If you take the curb now, at this speed, you are going to bend the wheels and possibly break the suspension.”

Closer now, without any signs of returning to their lane, and with full "damn the torpedoes" ramming speed, I decide it would be better to jump the curb in furtherance of my actions to avoid the coming collision. I scan the sidewalk to my right to make sure their are no pedestrians at which point the god awful sounds, we’ve all heard them, of metal bending and ripping apart, plastic being torn to shreds, glass breaking, the “bang” or “pow” associated with colliding bodies and of course the little voices one might hear in your head that immediately begin second guessing yourself as to why you didn’t already jump the curb at 25 mph.

“Fuck bending the wheels, Do it! Jump the curb! Dude, you just got hit in your Cayenne” I seem to recall hearing in my head. Too late.

All this in about three seconds.

Stunned of course, I gather my senses and look in the left hand mirror. I see the car that hit me, a Ford Taurus (year unknown) and the “other” car that was behind me as this all started. The “other” car had pulled over to the right as well.

The Ford Taurus that hit me began to drive away. 

Now, it get’s interesting.

Thinking I need to at least get the plate number I chose “Plan A”. Do a u-turn and follow until I could read the plate.

I call 911 as I commit to the u-turn when I see the “other” car is also making a u-turn ahead of me. I think, “Wow, a good Samaritan is going to help get the plate number too. 'Excellent!'” I say. I need some help since, as I start to follow the Ford Taurus I realize the rear left is flat and I wont be able to follow for long.

The Ford Taurus makes a right turn not more then thirty yards from the scene then attempts to make a left turn into a nearby apartment complex.

The Taurus stops not being able to complete the left turn followed by the reverse lights coming on. The “other” car with the Good Samaritan is now behind the offending Taurus.

It’s at the moment that I think I may, as in might, maybe, could possibly need to draw my weapon since, I can now see there are two occupants in the Taurus and I no longer believe they are going to cooperate with reasonable people. (I’m reasonable people, right?)

I hear the 911 operator answer the phone as my Cayenne comes to a complete stop. My firearm is in a safe ready status when I hear, “Get out of the car!”

I ask myself why would the Good Samaritan in the “other” car take the initiative when this is not their problem?

The 911 operator is encouraging me to I identify myself and my location as I was applying the parking brake thinking I am going to have to stop these people and wait for the cops to arrive (Before you decide I was headed in the wrong direction understand that I was already in the snake fields in this neighborhood. Who knows what laid in wait if I had approached politely with nothing to back up my requests for identification).

I hear the demand to, “Get out of the car!” once more. This time I see the words “Austin Police Department” on the back of a person standing near the offending Taurus. This person has a pistol drawn and trained on the passenger. Then I see the second person with no identifying marks, badges or patches also with a pistol drawn but trained on the driver of the Ford Taurus.

The “other” car mentioned was occupied by two APD detectives working undercover and were on a non-priority call at the moment I was hit. These officers were no less than three car spaces behind me at the moment of impact. They later stated they would have been hit themselves had I actually decided, “Fuck the wheels” and jumped the curb. It was just that close. (They didn’t say “fuck”. That was me)

I park the Cayenne to the side to get it out of the street. I stand at the curb while the officers begin processing the two suspects. The driver is lying on the ground in cuffs snoring. Yes. The driver was unconscious. Again.

I asked three questions. Is he conscious? (No) Has he been drinking? (Can't you smell it?) Does he have insurance. (We found an insurance card!)

No, they are not "from here" A little further south if you get my drift. Just here to earn a living now is all. At least that is what I am told. You know.

It is assumed, thanks to the alleged level of intoxication on alcohol, possibly marijuana, and “other” narcotics, the driver lost consciousness prior to ramming into my car.

Several more officers show up as back-up arrives. I am asked for my driver’s license and, if I understand the Texas CHL laws correctly, I am supposed to present my CHL to the officer at the same time I present my drivers license.

I do so.

This seemed to excite the officer who asked for my DL. I told him I was presently unarmed and that the weapons, yes plural, are in the car. Why limit yourself to something that goes “pop pop pop” when you can have something that goes “BOOOM PUDDY, BOOOM PUDDY, BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM?” May God Bless Texas and the 2nd Amendment! Yippy kai yay! (That was for you Gumby!!) Besides, who knows when the Zombies are coming? (TSP does)

This officer orders me to stay away from my vehicle. I oblige the officer considering the circumstances.

It’s somewhere in the mid-forties Fahrenheit so it’s cold (for me) with a long sleeve shirt. Then it starts to rain. The kind of cold rain with biblically sized raindrops. Giant rain drops. The kind of rain drops that get you soaked inside of five or six of them hitting you. Bucket sized raindrops. Not happy raindrops. Angry raindrops.

I ask the officer who ordered me to stay away from my car if I could sit in a squad car while this gets sorted out or get my jacket or sit in my own car. He hems and haws (I’m sure I heard a hem not so sure about a haw) ultimately ignoring my request.

I ask again if I can retrieve my jacket from my car so when I expire from hypothermia at least I’ll be warm. One of the detectives finally responds to my request but wants to “secure” my weapons (yes, plural) before he allows me to get my jacket. It is at this moment that the narco-squad detective, one of the Good Samaritans from the “other” car, begins to rifle though my car looking for what he could arrest me for. I don’t do that stuff so he finds nothing (Whether or not he had probable cause to search my vehicle I am sure you all will offer your thoughts). Nevertheless it pissed me off he was searching my car. He wasn't invited to do so.

When the officer finally hands me my jacket he asks if I have any weapons in it because it is a heavy jacket. I’m a big guy and it takes a lot of dead cows to make a leather jacket out of ‘em for me. Of course it’s going to be heavy. Some detective!

By this time water is pouring off the top of my head and I am soaked. Completely soaked. Soaked as if I had stood out in the pouring cold rain for fifteen minutes asking three different police officers if I could sit somewhere else such as their cars, hand cuffed if need be; just not in the pouring cold rain.

My folks roll up on scene (always have a plan B, right? And yes I called my mommy!) so I jump in their car for the ensuing steam bath. Had to have been 90 degrees in their car. Couple that with the near freezing precipitation I am soaked with and no one can see in or out of the car within seconds.

Eventually the officers ask what my plans are for my car. I tell them it is my intention to have my car towed to the body shop I have used in the past via AAA towing. I was strongly encouraged by the officer to allow an APD rotation tow truck to take the vehicle for me since they are required to be on scene within forty-five minutes of the request further stating stating that AAA can take up to three hours.

I asked the officer three times if the rotation tow truck driver would take my car to the body shop directly. “Yes” was the answer three times.

Tow truck driver arrives and loads my car on the flat bed ignoring my request to use the proper “screw-in” tow hook provided by Porsche so that tow hooks would not be used improperly possibly causing further damage to other components.

I suspect this cat had an IQ that, if exercised, would warp the time space continuum enough to cause my folks, the remaining officer on scene, and the whole of mankind to be sucked into a black hole just this side of the other one.

Or maybe it would start the coming Zombie Apocalypse. No big deal, right? Maybe. The nearest Wal-Mart was two miles away on foot and you know how fast the Zombies can move.

I didn’t press any further.

I did ask to ensure he was taking the Cayenne to the body shop I requested. “Only if you pay me!” was the retort. Fearing the inevitable, he was paid.

Aftermath.












Estimate is expected to rise but initial estimate was $7,300.00 and change. Could rise another twenty percent when they “open” it up. Really don’t like the sound of opening up my Cayenne. Heard it once already.

Estimated delivery date is April 3, 2009

Oh yeah… and I broke my thumbnail in all this somehow.



Updates to follow…










3 comments:

Kari Sanchez said...

Wow what a story and very well written. Luis highly enjoyed it actually. So sorry about the Cayenne, good thing you had your weaponS ready. At least your nails weren't painted at time of impact! lol

Unknown said...

wow. that sucks. really.

Johnson Family said...

I was expecting a story about a painted nail when I opened up your blog. However once reading it, I forgot about the nail! You always have the most interesting stories! Sorry about your car, but at least you're safe.