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Daniel Eran

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Freaking Out
I called up my insurance company and got a claim set up. I don't have comprehensive coverage, so I'll have to pay for everything out of pocket and collect from the other driver's insurance company. I've been in six significant accidents while on a bike or motorcycle, where a car has ran a stop sign or plowed into my lane without looking.

I never get in accidents that are my fault because when I'm going fast or being silly, I am focused and hyperaware of what's happening around me in every direction. It's only when I'm being careful and laidback and conservative and slow that I relax and fail to anticipate the retarded things drivers next to me decide to pull.

In San Francisco, if you run a red light or make an illegal turn, you can theoretically get a hefty ticket. Police have other things to do, so petty traffic stuff is not their first priority. It's fairly rare to see a car pulled over. I've only ever been pulled over on my bike by bike hater cops who just wanted to give me a hassle. I've never actually been ticketed in the City, whether driving or on a bike.

I don't mind the police being casual about petty moving violations, but the City is out of control when it comes to drivers who actually hit people, particularly bikes and pedestrians. San Francisco leads the nation in numbers of people killing people with their inattentive driving, and I'm pretty angry about it. Every article about a pedestrian getting run down in a crosswalk by a driver in a hurry ends with a comment about how the driver wasn't even cited. Disgusting.

It makes me want to go postal when I get a $35 ticket for failing to move my car for street cleaning, while drivers casually go on killing sprees that foul City streets far worse, without the police inconveniencing them with so much as a court appearance.

America's priorities are so retarded. It's like the SuperBowl uproar and general freaking out about seeing Janet's boob pop out, from the same parents who sit their kids in front of movies featuring the Governator shooting peoples' brains out. If you'd rather have your kids know what spattered brains look like than see a woman without a shirt on, you shouldn't be having children. How did you even figure out how to have them?

Oh, and while I'm on an angry rant: shame on you pet lovers who freak out and start a benefit event for every frail old dog in Marin with cancer, but collectively yawn when a kid gets abducted. That really makes me angry, and you don't want to see me when I'm angry.

So anyway, I was kinda mad just about calling insurance companies and getting this big run around, as if it was going to take all the kings horses and all the king's men to figure out where the liability might lay when a driver, making a grossly illegal turn, knocks down a motorcyclist. The other company I'm dealing with has been acting like they are really bending over backward to consider my claim. As if I need to fill out papers for them and release any and all privacy records in an attempt to apply for the privilege to beg their good graces and perhaps get some help if they can see their way to admitting some possible liability.

Listen you: I'm not breathlessly awaiting the results of office paper shuffling and deliberating investigations. Need I explain, Mr. Insurance Guy, that your company has been getting payments from an erratic driver in exchange for the assurance you will cover his butt if he screws up and ends up needing some mad cash money? The only paperwork I need to get from you is a 'please don't sue us, mister-sir' letter and some signed blank checks, thank you very much.

Part IV > High, how are ya?

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