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Bad Day:

By Willie Gaffer

February 4, 2008

 

I began writing this on January 18. It was a rather peaceful day. I really needed a peaceful day. The day before was not the worst day of my life by far, but I think I will remember it forever. It began bad when we drove out our driveway to discover our trash box had been overturned by punk thugs again. I don’t know how many times that makes. I have stopped counting. Petty little punk thugs do it on a regular basis.

 

I know the character type by heart. So do you. These dirty little punks were around 65 years ago when I went to school. They are always teenage kids who run in packs like little rats, four or five to a pack. They always have a car of some sort and they ride around together looking for mean little ways to hurt people or property. They are looking for easy victims. Caught alone, each of them is an abject coward, but the pack gives them a false courage, a strutting giggling bravado. When I was a kid there were no girls involved. Now there are. I think that indicates a cultural degeneration. Girls used to take a moral stance and were the stabilizing influence.

 

When I went to school everyone knew who these dirt-bags were. They had names and everyone knew them. The cops knew them too and dealt with them early on, before they became criminals. Now, the cops still know who they are, but they can’t be bothered dealing with them. Then many of them do graduate to B-&-E or even armed robbery. Then the cops throw up their hands and deplore the situation. Sure!

 

About the trash box, it is still lying on its side. It was stuck in the snow and much too heavy for me to restore to its useful position. The box was not the worst part of the day. Everything went well until we were at our final shopping stop. There I did something so incredibly stupid that I am embarrassed to write about it. However, writing is what I do and honesty is what I am about.

 

As I went to park, I saw I was approaching the building too fast and I tried to hit the brake. Instead, I hit the gas and when the van surged forward, I pushed harder on what I thought was the brake. The van slammed into the building. An unbelievable circumstance saved that from being a possibly fatal accident. There was a steel post set in the cement at almost the exact center of my impact. It did stop my van from penetrating the building and dong considerably more damage and possibly manslaughter. It was the only post in front of the building. Go figure!

 

The business owner was frightened. He was sure I had had a heart attack and he did not know what to do. When Mrs. Gaffer assured him I was alright, he knew what to do. He called the local sheriff’s post, which was nearby. The sheriff’s deputy was there in a couple of minutes and he was relieved to discover there had been no injuries. He proceeded to make out an accident report. I had had beer for lunch but the deputy never asked me if I had been drinking. He just wrote out the report. Of course neither of us looks like the sort of people who drink a lot. We look like a couple of nice old diddling fools.

 

You could almost see his mind working as he wrote. I’m sure he just looked at us and thought, “Couple old people ran their car into a store. Happens all the time. Poor old bugger! Better get this done and get them out of here before the old guy has a stroke or heart attack. Don’t want to deal with that on my watch.”

 

For him it was a straightforward accident report. No one was injured and there were no tickets to write. Just an accident. No one at fault, really. He was very polite and nice to us in every way. He called a wrecker to pull my van off the post that I had impaled it on. Strangely enough, it still ran. There was no damage under the hood at all. Mrs. Gaffer was able to drive it home. I was not about to try driving at that time. I was left to wonder how that deputy would have treated me if I had been 17 years old instead of 77. I suspect his demeanor would have been considerably different.

 

The following day was when we discovered we have no insurance. When Mrs. Gaffer called Allstate to file a claim the woman informed her point blank. If we made a claim they would raise my rates to recover the claim amount. They would not just recover the amount of the claim. They would keep on collecting the raise forever. So, we have no insurance. We have a very expensive, high interest, pay-forever, lone shark. I was shocked. I have been with Allstate since 1947. That was when I bought my first used vehicle. Now they have gone rogue.

 

As Mrs. Gaffer astutely points out, they have grown too large and built a bureaucracy, which has acquired too many overpaid executives. It’s time I began to pay attention. They used to have reasonable rates. Now their rates are no different that the very expensive companies and their claims service has slipped into the slippery category. At the body shop, where we are going to have our van repaired, I did what I should have done long ago. I asked the professional estimator to tell me who was the best insurance company. He gave me two names, Pioneer and Auto Owners. So we will go insurance shopping as soon as this problem is over. We will take our homeowners and our auto insurance away from Allstate.

 

Now, after the accident I have calmed down and looked carefully at what happened with the van. I have analyzed the situation and drawn some conclusions. The important thing is, I am suffering from a condition know as macular degeneration. That is an eye disease wherein the cones in the eye degenerate to the point where the victims becomes legally blind. For those interested, I have written several essays about my situation. They are in the “Previous Forum” archives. The first essay is called “To See or Not to See.” The others have similar names and are easy to identify.

 

As to the accident, I have surmised that my depth perception is somewhat worse than I thought. With both eyes open, I find things are much closer to me than they appear to be. In fact, my depth perception is better with my left eye closed. This is what happened in the accident. I was very much closer to the building than I had first perceived. By the time I realized it, the situation was serious and my panic only made it worse. This was not the first incident. I have had other cases where I was moving too fast for the situation I was in.

 

Now I must face some hard facts. In most cases I will not be able to drive. It is not about getting a driver’s license. The State of Michigan routinely gives driver’s licenses to people who cannot see across the street. It’s revenue, don’t you know? So for me, it’s about minimizing the threat I pose to other people. To act responsibly, I should only drive if there is no other way to do what I need to do. When I do, I must be very aware of where I am with respect to the objects and people around me. When at all possible, Mrs. Gaffer will drive.

 

The other thing is I find it is time to do some serious research into the state of eye research, particularly for macular degeneration. Though I had wanted to do research that would support my mission to deal with global warming and the energy problem, I will not do it now. No matter how much I learn, if I become blind, I will be no use to anyone. Therefore, first things first. I will find what I can about my problem with the idea of finding a cure or of offering my useless left eye as an object for experimentation. Of course, I will report whatever I find out so long as I can write. In the meantime, I will hope my right eye remains my ally and does not betray me.

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