TBO.com - TBO is Tampa Bay Online

Backing Into A Dead-End Solution

ADVERTISEMENT

By TOM JACKSON

The Tampa Tribune

Published: May 25, 2008

A funny thing happened on my way to Memorial Day weekend. OK, it wasn't funny. In fact, what happened pretty much stinks. But if 55 years on the planet teaches nothing else, it's that you don't tamper with success. And that "A funny thing happened" line has been a sure-fire opener since the pyramids were new.

So, the not-funny thing is that I backed into a little Japanese sedan - a Nissan Altima, if I recall correctly. Shiny and deep, deep blue, like the sky just after sunset. If you look at my bumper, you can see some of the Altima's paint. Or maybe it was deep maroon, and the blue streak is what lurks beneath the bumper's overcoat.

So, the little blue (or maroon) car was in the lane seconds before me, but somehow it eluded the camera in the back of the Leviathan Twin 88 SUV Barack Obama says I should apologize to other countries for driving.

Well, fine. We await the European Union's recommendations about hauling the inevitable "stuff" that goes to and from the Smoky Mountains six to eight times a year. Take less? Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that? Now, somebody tell Mrs. This Space and the heir apparent and the assorted dogs.

I'll be waiting. Behind the wheel of the Leviathan Twin 88.

Still, this was one of those moments that made me wish I'd followed my midlife crisis down to the Saturn dealership to sign up for the Skye Redline convertible that the desperate, weak, nagging piece of my brain says would restore my ebbing youth. Drivers of two-seater drop-tops almost never back into other cars, two-seater drop-tops having, by definition, no blind spots.

Call A Cop? Not Necessarily

So, anyway, I backed into the Altima, announced by the sickening CA-runch of crumpling metal, and the skrrrrr-ETCH! of the other motorist lurching forward in a panicky, failed attempt to avoid the methodical, if uncareful, approach of the Leviathan's menacing bumper, succeeding only in ripping the entire right taillight assembly from its mooring.

Our inspection revealed a watermelon-sized dimple in the victim car, and the taillight, a bright silver fish, dangling helplessly at the end of twisted red and white cables. The other driver was understandably annoyed. Here we were, in the middle of the Publix parking lot at Collier Parkway and State Road 54, drizzle starting to fall, refrigerated food in the back seats and places to be and now, well, as I say, here we were.

"What do we do?" she said. "What do we do? Do we call a cop? You backed into me, right? You backed into me. Don't we need to tell a cop?"

Readily apparent was the fact that each of us was unharmed. Also, that our cars were drivable. We had returned to our parking spaces; we blocked no traffic.

Our emotional conditions - she, agitated; me, chagrined - were well within normal limits; we seemed unlikely to come to blows. And we were on private property. So, no, I said, bothering one of the sheriff's fine deputies was not necessary.

Here's what we do: We swap contact and insurance information. We get an incident report from a deputy or a sheriff's substation, fill it out and file it. We contact our insurance agents and let them take it from there.

This Almost Never Happens

I said this with the authority of someone who backs into little Japanese sedans in parking lots a couple of times a week, who has turned the dimpling of thin stamped steel into a pastime evolving toward art form. Actually, I almost never back into other vehicles, although I have been known to thump into the occasional pole.

The other driver frowned. "I'm calling my husband." Mr. Backed-Into said, "Call a cop," but Mrs. Backed-Into's insurance company said, listen to the guy who backed into you.

This is what comes from hanging out with cop reporters. But I would just as soon not have had to put this knowledge-by-osmosis into practice. It occurs that I probably should take measures to avoid having to flaunt my newsroom education again.

Hmmm. Wonder what Mrs. This Space would say to the two-seater drop-top and its unlimited visibility factor for every day and the Leviathan Twin 88 for road trips. Wonder if I just came home with the two-seater drop-top. Would she be as reasonable as Mrs. Back-Into?

Probably not. Probably she would say, "I'm callin' a cop."

Sigh. Look out, little Japanese sedans.

Tom Jackson can be reached at (813) 948-4219.

Share this:

Loading Comments...

Email Print

ADVERTISEMENT