It was a bit of a shock when I realised last year marked the Ruby anniversary of passing my driving test.
I’ve written about the cars I’ve owned, and yesterday did a challenge for Teresa aka The Haunted Wordsmith that involved a dent in a car.
Apart from challenges, I seem to be running out of ideas for posts, so thought I’d come clean about my driving history.
To date and hopefully not tempting fate, I have no points on my licence for whatever reason, but confess I have had a few prangs. I’m a woman, so it’s to be expected right? However, they were not all my fault !!!
My first little encounter was with a metallic silver Capri I think it was, which suddenly turned left with no indication and I went up the back of him. I was driving Gladys, my 1966 anglia, and there was hardly a mark on her. However, both of us got out and exchanged names, addresses and apologies. He was very nice about it actually, and said he had just come back from viewing a body so his mind was elsewhere. My mind was also occupied with something else as Husband and I had been discussing divorce.
We agreed a 50/50 error of judgement, so I gave him a cheque for fifty quid and heard no more about it.
Husband and I went to counselling for six months so we were still together when I had my next collision. I was driving my Renault 12, and a guy just cut straight across in front of me to go into the garage.
I wrote off the back of his brand new car, putting a ripple dent in the bodywork under the offside headlight in mine.
This was not my fault at all, as he’d never driven an automatic before and hit the accelerator instead of the brake. Accepting full responsibility, he arranged to have my car repaired, so again no insurance companies were involved.
Fast forward many years and the buying of Thomas, an Austin Maxi.
Backing out of the parking area when we were living in our one bedroom box, I hit a car that was parked directly across the entrance. I knocked on the owner’s door and told them what I’d done as I felt it was the right thing to do. The guy came out and looked at the damage, saying it would be OK and he’d get a couple of quotes. He opened the driver’s door and couldn’t shut it again. Oops. Now he wasn’t quite so happy.
This turned out to be an interesting scenario.
I saw him a few times and asked if he had any quotes yet, to which he replied he had two so far, one for £500 and one for £600. I told him to go through the insurance companies as I had protected no claims and they would settle the bill.
Some weeks went by and he came scurrying out one day when I got home from work and said the cheapest quote was £500 but if I’d give him a cheque, he wouldn’t put it through his insurance company. I told him to go ahead as mine was ready to settle once the paperwork had been received and processed.
Nothing happened, and again after a couple of weeks, he confronted Hubby in the car park saying he was happy to accept cash and not put it through the insurance companies. Hubby said that was what we had insurance for and if he let us know who his insurers were, we could tell ours.
There never was a claim, we never paid a cent and believe it may have been that he had no insurance anyway.
The dent that appeared in my brand new Hyundai Atoz was caused by a flying parasol that had been uprooted from its stand by howling gales. Our neighbours said they would foot the bill, but when we took the vehicle in, they tried to tell us the whole vehicle needed a respray. That was just ridiculous, and we knew without asking our neighbours wouldn’t pay for it, so Hubby bought some touch up paint, repaired it himself and you couldn’t tell.
The claim that did go through the insurance company was when I was driving Hubby’s Peugeot Partner when we were house hunting. Luckily the caravan was on site and not attached when a young female driver pulled out from a junction in front of me and I clipped the back of her vehicle. She had a baby in the back and I was mortified.
Everyone was OK though, we had witnesses and although it was a bit of a game getting our car repaired as we had to go to a specified repairer, her insurance company paid up.
I reversed into a bollard at the supermarket when driving my Peugeot 206, and when parking in my MIL’s garden when we first started house hunting, I grazed her washing line pole which had a rusty edge and put a nasty scratch in my front wing.
All in all not bad for 41 years behind the wheel.