There is a saying that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. I found out what this means firsthand the other day. Driving from the East Coast to the Midwest to see family on a stopover to the Rockies, amidst a torrential downpour and underconfident drivers, I hydroplaned into a guardrail, doing considerable damage to my car. Not enough to prevent me from finishing the remaining 400 miles, though that’s my position and no one else’s so far – they deemed me foolish for continuing my trip. I was getting to my destination in that car or a body bag, and at the time, I didn’t care which. And I made it.

Once I got to my midway point, I filed an insurance claim, and then I had to take the car into a collision repair shop the following day. I got an estimate and pictures, and sent that onto my insurance agent, though nobody with the company from the first day until this writing has been helpful or forthcoming, and if it weren’t for one person who understands what service really means and takes her job seriously (she’s with a collaborating agency for out-of-state claims), I’d be high and dry. Things that should’ve taken 48 hours are now damn near a full week, and while I would never expect anyone to work on their day off, I’m left speechless that insurance companies (or at least mine) press pause on the weekends. To say that I’m frustrated would be an understatement; at points I’ve been damn near infuriated. Unfortunately, none of this is within my control. Which is ironic, because traveling by car has always been preferable for me because I feel that there is at least some semblance of control, even if the trip takes longer. I guess accidents rule that belief null and void.

I would’ve been better off leaving my car on the side of the road and walking back the way I came. (Image comes courtesy of Serhii Bondarchuk and retrieved from here.)

The real issue is that the insurance company needs to decide whether to fix the car or total it. They total a car at 75%, and my rating is 63%, but once you factor in the cost of a rental for a month ($1,500), and the “open-ended” nature of the claim (meaning there is likely to be more damage beneath the surface), then it gets pretty darn close to that 75% number pretty quick. These jokers have requested a “teardown” which is a disassembly of the car (which also costs money, say, $1,000?) so, I think they’re just delaying the inevitable. Keep in mind, I hadn’t intended to be where I am this long. I was supposed to head west on 6/21 and arrive 6/22. Today is 6/23, and while I went to bed thinking I would be departing on 6/24, that is no longer certain. To add further insult to injury, there are no rentals at the “preferred” place, and now I’m scrambling to find any rental at all. Once one is secured, if they determine the car should be repaired, it’s just another frustration in a string of frustrating events. If they decide that it’s totaled, well, then I’m left having to buy a car and already have departed, creating another issue. The whole situation sucks.

For the record, yes, I should be thankful I’m alive and unscathed. And yes, I should acknowledge that many, many people have it far worse than me. That’s all well and good. That doesn’t make the situation any less of a pain in the ass.

Further, I did a number of upgrades to my car – one-time expenses – that are effectively lost to the wind if I have to buy another vehicle. There isn’t a good path out of this situation (not that I expected one), and the whole thing has left me frustrated with myself (sure, I could’ve been going slower, but I sure wish other people knew how to drive in inclement weather), the insurance industry, and every single jackass I’ve dealt with who hasn’t even come close to doing their job. I threatened to change insurers when I’m back in the East, but then someone asked me why I thought anyone else would be better. I don’t know why I think that. I’ve never had much faith in humans. This experience only provides further justification for that belief.

As I write this, I’m waiting for the person at the “approved” rental agency to do their job so I can find out what’s available to rent. People get frustrated with the government for layers of red tape and bureaucracy, and rightfully so. But the private sector is no better. They fleece people left and right, and they only look out for their profit margins. At least in the government there is a small degree of accountability, even if infinitesimal. The private industry is a bunch of scammers, and the “service” industry is an oxymoron. The only service in this SNAFU, one individual aside, has been garbage. And you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be drawing the Better Business Bureau into this and raking these bastards across the coals as soon as I can. I’m fuming. Can you tell?

Marco Esquandoles
Stranded