Indecisiveness Strikes at the AutoMall

It's time to get a new car. The Sentra is up and running like a champ, but it would better serve Chef than me at this point. Knowing this, I ventured out to my local Carmax last weekend wanting to look at about six different car models.

After careful consideration, I am no closer to choosing one than I was before.

I like one because it's fuel efficient and newer and from a  reliable brand, but it doesn't have as many luxuries for the price. One is slightly older has more luxuries and is also reliable, but is rumored to require the sale of a kidney for upkeep in its later days. Some are new but basic, others are older (less than 3 years old) but pimped out. And frankly, I just can't decide.

So I've decided to put off the decision, because that's what all reasonable people do.

What kind of car do you drive? Would you recommend it?

A Holiday Shakedown

My crude diagram of the accident. I'm the heart car,
the Ford SUV is the asterick and the square
 behind me was the one that nudged me. 

I spent the morning with Chef--out and about. Doing some gift card spending and having a good ole time. We had picked up lunch and were heading back into the house when my phone rang. It wasn't a number that I recognized but it was from LA, so I picked it up. It could've been a client or someone work-related.

It was neither. The guy said "I'm Martin X. Ben's dad. You remember? Last week. . ." The signal was bad, the call dropped, and I couldn't discern who it was. I was trying to rack my brain thinking if I had been working with some kids lately at a charity, and frankly I couldn't think of a "Ben" to save my life. A few steps later, my phone rang again.

And here's where things got interesting.

A few weeks ago I was on my way to a work event in bumper-to-bumper (aka normal LA rush hour) traffic. The car to my left, a Ford SUV-type, was in a left hand turn lane, but their butt was sticking out so I couldn't move. The cars in front of me had gone on the green light, but I was still blocked. Apparently the car behind me didn't care. A black sedan, probably a Prius but I couldn't remember, nudged me forward. I knew I had been hit, and stopped but didn't realize that my car's driver side mirror had hit the taillight of the car who was blocking my lane. The black sedan took off around me and I got out to check my car. A few scrapes on the back bumper, a scrape on my side mirror and then I saw the Ford SUV had a broken taillight. I got the driver to pull over, I pulled over, we exchanged information, and I went on to my work event. A little rattled and a lot pissed that after 12 years with no insurance claims, poor Liam Nissan had two claims within 5 weeks. I also waved my fist at every black Prius that I saw, which was a lot because it's LA and everyone drives a Prius.

I knew the driver of the Ford SUV was mentally challenged in some way. I didn't know what in particular, but I tried my best to make sure he had everything he needed and I did too. He said the policy was under his dad's name and that his dad would probably get a hold of me.

And his dad did. But not before calling my insurance company. The Ford SUV had called my insurance company before I could even call them and alert them. I wasn't going to file a claim for a scrape, but gave my testimony, uploaded pictures of my car, the Ford, etc.  And then I thought I was done.

But the driver's dad called me today---more than three weeks after the accident, and asked me for $150 for the damages to his son'ts car. He kept saying that I was at fault and that I just needed to pay him and that he just went to get an estimate today and that's what took so long.

It felt wrong. He felt pushy and I KNEW that someone on his end had already alerted my insurance company. I told him that I was not admitting fault, that he had already filed a claim with my insurance company and I wasn't going to pay him if he still has something pending against me. Martin told me that they hadn't called my insurance company at all. That he had no idea how my insurance would have their information. He closed by saying "My son is autistic. You know you are at fault. But fine. Do whatever. I'll assume you will call me back to take care of this."

I called my insurance company and the long and short of it is that they denied his son's claim because it was determined that it wasn't my fault. So his insurance company would have to cover it. That no one on that end should have contacted me at all. My insurance company (who I love!) gave me a copy of the denial letter in case he called me again.

I have a feeling he won't be calling back. I might've had some sympathy if he had been honest, but the total ambush about month after the fact AND after the denial really pushed my limits.

My Car Looks like a Miami Vice Rerun

The award for bonehead move of the week definitely goes to me. I was getting breakfast for co-workers yesterday and while in the grocery store grabbed  a few items for another recipe. I put everything in my car and when I came in to work, I was loaded down with stuff so I left the groceries for later in my backseat until I could get them.

I should've known better because as soon as I set my stuff down, I got whisked into an impromptu meeting, had calls to return and BOOM! The day started. I forgot about my car groceries, which sat in the not so hot, but always sunny backseat of my car, Liam Nissan. 

One of the groceries: a pound of butter. 

So I drive home in a car that smells like it should be used to coat popcorn and my back passenger side seat is an oily mess. I research online and see that after wiping up what I can, the recommended thing to do is coat the area with baking soda or cornstarch to absorb the mess. So I do, but then I wonder if passersby will think that I had an accident and that I have a big pile of cocaine in my backseat. I know it's not likely, but my neighbor is on the cusp of an area where that probably isn't too big of a stretch, so I covered the pile of cornstarch with a towel.

So now my car is retro because it's in to coke. Or at least it feels that way. It seems like its a prop from Miami Vice (the TV show not the horrible movie). 

Does anyone have any better ideas on how to get melted butter out of  car upholstery?

Vacation Day Ten: Last Vestiges of Relaxation

It's the last official day of my staycation. While a tiny part of me is ready to go back to work, another part of me is ready for a life of being independently wealthy. Who isn't though, right? The good thing about tomorrow is that I wasn't overly ambitious and have no external meetings. One full day of getting caught up and back in the swing of things.

For the last two days, I've been working diligently to get as much relaxing in as possible. It's a tough job, let me tell you. I've slept. I've eaten. I've baked. It's been glorious.

The other thing I'm thanking God for is that for the third week in a row, I'm not working a full work week. I'm off on Friday because I'm heading up to Indianapolis to see my girls. I'm so excited to see them that I wish today was Friday. Plus it will be Liam's first long trip. I've got to get the ipod loaded up and ready to go. Ladies, I'm going to request that we have at least one cocktail of everyone's choosing while we're together.

But until then, I will enjoy the remaining hours of relaxation. Maybe I'll dig back into the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I've gotten 56% through it (or at least that's what the Kindle says). Now I'm watching a special on the Wizarding World of Harry Potter section of the Orlando Universal Studios theme park. Is it bad that I really want to go and visit Hogwarts in person? They keep saying "kids" will love it, but that means kids at heart, too, right?

Tomorrow it's back to work. Back to writing every morning. Back to running every morning. Back to eating better. Back to being healthy. Wish me luck.