shirenomad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shirenomad) wrote2005-05-07 02:38 pm
shirenomad) wrote2005-05-07 02:38 pm
Entry tags:
...Oops.
As I've mentioned, I'm involved in a film; as I've also mentioned, I'm working for a lawyer as an informal paralegal. What I don't think I've mentioned is that this arrangement came about largely because the lawyer is an invester in the film, is handling the production team's legal matters, and is generally fangirling all over being involved in a movie. (She's a fellow geek, in case you hadn't guessed.)
Anyway, yesterday I was called upon by Pam (the lawyer in question) to make my way through the Santa Cruz Mountains to Boulder Creek, where the editor lived, and pick up the latest cut of the movie. Since she didn't want to reimburse me for gas (and since my car doesn't handle mountain driving very well), she gave me the keys to her van instead. So off I go down mountain roads (which I'm not used to dealing with) in a large, lumbering van (which I've driven maybe twice before then) to a location I've never visited (using directions that don't actually name half the streets).
Looking back, I suppose I should be surprised I made it as far as I did.
As I'm taking a curve in the road looking for the last turn (which, thankfully, I did have the street name for), I suddenly spot the street sign in question. So I take a glance back at the road ahead, then start to the left. If I'd had more time to turn or slow down, I might have looked harder, and maybe realized that due to the road's curve, I can't actually SEE much of the road ahead...
...but by the time I have a chance to consider that, the pickup coming the other way has already tapped the van on the shoulder to say "Excuse me, could you please move out of my way?" at about 25 MPH.
Like I said, oops.
This being the mountains, my cell phone isn't worth crap, so I have to knock on doors to find someone with a landline -- thankfully, this nice grandmotherly type was all too happy to help -- and call Pam to let her know I killed her car. Her first question was in regards to injuries. No, both of us were fine. He'd tried to avoid me by swerving and gotten it on the passenger-side front corner, so he'd had an entire engine block between him and the point of impact; I'd been smacked on the passenger-side front door, which was now about three inches closer to me than when I started driving but had taken all the blow; neither of us were carrying passengers. Whiplash was always a possibility to surprise one of us later, but no one was bleeding or in pain.
Her next question: "Did you get the movie?"
*raises an eyebrow confusedly* The van was admittedly old and in need of replacing, but she was surprisingly cool with the fact that it was totalled. (I didn't find out until later that she was panicked about what to tell my mom, whom she was good friends with; that she had sent their eldest out driving unfamiliar streets and nearly gotten him killed.)
Anyway, yes, I did get the movie. I was within a block of the the editor's house, so I told the other driver I'd be back shortly, don't worry, hoofed it over and was back with the DVD before the highway patrol arrived to take statements. The cop took a few moments to be convinced that my jumpiness was because I had been in an accident, not because I was on something, but he was largely reasonable once I calmed myself down. He took statements, measured a few turns, gave us both report information and left. No citations; I guess he realized I couldn't have been expected to see the guy. (The lady with the phone said accidents at that intersection are alarmingly common.) Insurance information got traded, the tow trucks arrived (the pickup was undrivable because the damage didn't let his wheels turn properly; the van was probably still mobile but I didn't want to risk it, especially given the state of my nerves), and off we went.
Pam even still let me watch the movie cut that evening. Go fig.
Anyway, yesterday I was called upon by Pam (the lawyer in question) to make my way through the Santa Cruz Mountains to Boulder Creek, where the editor lived, and pick up the latest cut of the movie. Since she didn't want to reimburse me for gas (and since my car doesn't handle mountain driving very well), she gave me the keys to her van instead. So off I go down mountain roads (which I'm not used to dealing with) in a large, lumbering van (which I've driven maybe twice before then) to a location I've never visited (using directions that don't actually name half the streets).
Looking back, I suppose I should be surprised I made it as far as I did.
As I'm taking a curve in the road looking for the last turn (which, thankfully, I did have the street name for), I suddenly spot the street sign in question. So I take a glance back at the road ahead, then start to the left. If I'd had more time to turn or slow down, I might have looked harder, and maybe realized that due to the road's curve, I can't actually SEE much of the road ahead...
...but by the time I have a chance to consider that, the pickup coming the other way has already tapped the van on the shoulder to say "Excuse me, could you please move out of my way?" at about 25 MPH.
Like I said, oops.
This being the mountains, my cell phone isn't worth crap, so I have to knock on doors to find someone with a landline -- thankfully, this nice grandmotherly type was all too happy to help -- and call Pam to let her know I killed her car. Her first question was in regards to injuries. No, both of us were fine. He'd tried to avoid me by swerving and gotten it on the passenger-side front corner, so he'd had an entire engine block between him and the point of impact; I'd been smacked on the passenger-side front door, which was now about three inches closer to me than when I started driving but had taken all the blow; neither of us were carrying passengers. Whiplash was always a possibility to surprise one of us later, but no one was bleeding or in pain.
Her next question: "Did you get the movie?"
*raises an eyebrow confusedly* The van was admittedly old and in need of replacing, but she was surprisingly cool with the fact that it was totalled. (I didn't find out until later that she was panicked about what to tell my mom, whom she was good friends with; that she had sent their eldest out driving unfamiliar streets and nearly gotten him killed.)
Anyway, yes, I did get the movie. I was within a block of the the editor's house, so I told the other driver I'd be back shortly, don't worry, hoofed it over and was back with the DVD before the highway patrol arrived to take statements. The cop took a few moments to be convinced that my jumpiness was because I had been in an accident, not because I was on something, but he was largely reasonable once I calmed myself down. He took statements, measured a few turns, gave us both report information and left. No citations; I guess he realized I couldn't have been expected to see the guy. (The lady with the phone said accidents at that intersection are alarmingly common.) Insurance information got traded, the tow trucks arrived (the pickup was undrivable because the damage didn't let his wheels turn properly; the van was probably still mobile but I didn't want to risk it, especially given the state of my nerves), and off we went.
Pam even still let me watch the movie cut that evening. Go fig.
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Glad to hear you're okay.