I used to have a clean driving record.
Then again, I could write a novel about the things I used to have and do. I used to pee in my pants. I used to beat up my sister. I used to have hair past my ass that my mom wouldn’t let me cut off because she was afraid I’d lose my curl.
So, from that standpoint, losing my immaculate driving record is just another rite of passage.
My car, courtesy of my father, is a Saturn Ion. Tiny car. Easy to park. Easy to maneuver on tiny city streets. So take someone who has been driving that car for four years, who thinks a Dodge Stratus is a little too much of a boat for her, and plant her in a cargo van, courtesy of a certain popular van and truck rental place that shall remain nameless.
I was fine for the first day and a half. I parked it, even somewhat parallel parking it downtown. I drove on small streets. I even navigated a tiny McDonald’s drive thru in Radnor.
Understandably, I thought I was home free on the morning I was set to return it.
Maybe I was a little cocky, or maybe I just really thought I was used to navigating the Yacht-sized van through lanes of traffic. Regardless of the cause, the simple act of changing lanes before the Parkway turned to disaster. I swerved from the far right lane into the next lane over only to be met with the sound of what was unmistakably vehicle-on-vehicle contact.
Shit.
Did I really hit someone? What do I do? I see a man get out of a blue car and come up to me. “You have to pull over,” he yells. “You hit me.”
SHIT.
I pull over, which isn’t really pulling over seeing as I’m in a turning lane, and apologize profusely. His car now has a dent on the driver’s side with all of the paint scratched off within the dent. And all I have on this, my rented van, is the slightest scratch of paint on the passenger door.
Still apologizing profusely, the originally pissed off driver warms up to me. Seeing a twentysomething female alone in a huge cargo van is enough to tip him off that I’m not used to driving one of those things. He’s not happy, but he really couldn’t have been more understanding about the whole thing. After we both made a few phone calls, we stood around and had some civilized conversation.
After about 20 minutes, a very angry member of the PPA runs up to his car. “YOU HAVE TO MOVE!” he yells. “YOU CAN’T STAY HERE!”
“We were in an accident,” he says. “We’re waiting for the police.”
Now, I’m not very familiar with traffic accidents, but I was under the impression that you were not supposed to vacate the scene of the crime. I’m pretty sure there isn’t an exception for angry PPA employees.
So we moved. I pulled in front of a fire hydrant; after all, what am I supposed to do in Center City Philadelphia at 10:30 a.m. with a huge van?
Within another 20 minutes, while the cops still have not arrived, another PPA employee (they’re everywhere!) walked up to my van and attempted to give me a ticket. I ran over to him and explained the situation. He did not give me a ticket and got on his radio requesting an officer at the scene.
At this point, the guy I hit had already called 911 twice.
Every few minutes a police car would drive by, but never slow down and definitely never stop.
An hour passes, and still no police. I call the rental company and get out of being charged for an extra day after explaining that it’s been over an hour and I’m still waiting for my first ever police report. (Well, I don’t explain it like that, but you get the idea.)
I call 911, making this the third call plus the radio call from the PPA officer. Finally, an hour and a half after the initial incident, a police officer shows up, saying that he has to make this quick. All for the joy of giving the Philadelphia police my information and putting my name on record. Something I could’ve done without, but I’m a law-abiding citizen.
So, now I officially no longer have a clean driving record. The good news? That rental place, which I am now not a huge fan of (which isn’t helped by the fact that their insurance company contacted me requesting a recorded statement and after a week have yet to return my phone calls), gave me an exorbitant bill and then smiled and told me that I can still rent from them! Oh happy day!
I’m pretty sure I won’t be taking them up on that offer. But thanks anyway.
~Valerie Williams
valerieleewilliams@gmail.com
Philadelphia, PA
