Car Woes: Part Three Million: A Family Affair

Firstly, you'll noticed I changed the title to exclude "PT." Because I traded that heaping pile in on Monday. It had a tire pressure alert light come on, and given my highway commute I was terrified of the thought of a tire blowing and possibly dying in a PT Cruiser. I now drive the smallest vehicle I've ever seen.

So now. Friends, you're tired of hearing about it. And believe me when I tell you I'm tired of living it. After twenty minutes on the phone with Enterprise followed by an hour and a half on the phone with my insurance company last night, I was done. Exhausted. Tired of spending countless hours on the phone with random numb skulls (who happens to be a random numb skull I've never spoken to about my claim, hence having to spend 15 minutes bringing them up to speed on "the case") -- every week.

When the wreck-causer told me they were canceling my rental coverage due to an unreasonably long repair time, I called my insurance company to straighten it out...this was Friday. They said, "As soon as we get off the phone here, I'll call the body shop for an update and then Statefarm to tell them they are obligated to pay for your car for the duration of repairs." I felt better. They assured me they'd call should anything go wrong. Friday. Yesterday was Wednesday and I got a call from Enterprise saying that since Statefarm stopped paying for the rental car on Friday, umm, someone's gotta come pay this balance. Of over $100. PS I still don't have the Jetta (I'm going to forego using the word "mine" to describe it -- that implies ownership of some kind).

So after almost 2 hours of nothing-new chatter, I resigned to the fact that I'm out $100. I'm just done, I'd rather be over it than in it. And then. J, amazing fiance, calls and says that no, it's not over because while he was at work last night, he'd made a few calls of his own. One, to his dad...returning in this sordid story as Father-at-Law, starring as himself. New to this episode however, is Uncle Paul, whose specific job escapes me, but I know he's in the insurance field. Father-at-Law and Uncle Paul are on the case. And lots of other interesting factors that will make today sporty.

In summation, for today at least, let me leave you with this thought. You can be driving home from work on a beautiful Friday afternoon, actually having thoughts of how lucky you are to be healthy again, etc. When out of the blue, a nice and polite college girl rams into the back of your car. Your insurance company initiates the claim and pays for the first 30 days of your rental car under your policy. Although it takes a month and a lot of phone calls, her insurance accepts liability for the accident, and transfers payment of your rental. And then when they feel the repairs have extended a reasonable amount of time, instead of calling the body shop to talk, they just cancel your rental coverage, calling to tell you this at noon on a Friday, leaving you, the victim, to pay the overages out of pocket. That's the short of it. That's three months of my tears in one paragraph. So while my friends and family might be tired of hearing about it, I'm tired of living it.