3 days ago as I sat in the passenger seat of a car with my friend J at the wheel, I had my senses jarred in mid-conversation by a sudden collision followed by another jolting impact that shoved J’s vehicle into the one ahead. Acting on impulse knowing neither J nor I had suffered significant injury, I dazedly opened the door and fumbled with my phone's camera function to capture the scene. Somehow instead of being lodged in the rear of our car, the taxi responsible was beside ours where it had collided with yet another vehicle. I snapped a picture then checked on the driver of the taxi that had hit us. He was groaning in pain and holding his head which had hit the steering wheel, but it didn't look serious.
I guessed from the sequence of events that the driver had mistaken the accelerator for the brake, he hit our car once and then hit it a second time after it had rebounded back due to the sustained accelerative force. The second impact had propelled our vehicle into the SUV ahead which in turn hit the taxi in front of it. Finally, the taxi responsible had somehow careened off our rear and hit the car to the right of us.
As we were sorting out the events with the traffic wardens that had arrived, the culprit left the scene; but I had his license plate number plainly evident in the photograph. My neck was sore and starting to stiffen, already the traffic was backing up on Maarof Road. I discerned that there were 5 cars involved, the SUV we had hit was driven by a middle aged lady named C and she had collided with a man named R.
R and C started arguing as onlookers gathered, though it was plainly obvious neither one was at fault. Fascinating that they would scream and shout at each other anyways. Just then, my phone signaled a text message had arrived. The message stated that my friend V had just given birth to a baby girl named Isabelle. Mother and baby were doing well. The time was listed as 118pm, a sudden chill descended over me because it was approximately when the crash had occurred. My senses were flipped just as the baby made her entrance to our world.
The police showed up 15 minutes later and I described the events then showed them the picture of the car that had hit and run. In my wishful mind images briefly flashed of the policemen scrambling to their vehicles in response and shouting an APB on their radio announcing the license plate of the taxi, but instead the officer remained rooted in his spot with a sympathetic look and a commiserating, "yeah, that's too bad...".
J’s car was not drivable and a tow truck was called in for it. The trip to the police station took two hours to conclude filling a report. Between bouts of waiting, we were directed from desk to desk between two buildings, interviewed by 3 different officers and finally stood in line at a window to drop off the filled out report slip. During this time, R and I chatted occasionally. I learned that he had been in 3 major collisions in his life, two of them the car was totaled. In one the car had turned over and skidded a hundred meters, he had to kick out the window to escape from the wreck and in the other the car had wrapped itself around a lamppost. Yet for all the incidences, the worse injury he had suffered was a broken collarbone. He was chagrined that he would lose a day's worth of business. Fortunately for him, the taxi company would handle all repairs swiftly at no cost.
After things were settled, we asked R if he could give us a ride back to my place and he obliged. During the ride R mentioned that his sister was getting married that evening. When we arrived at my apartment in MidValley I asked R what we owed him for the ride and he said, “what ever you want to give”. J stopped my hand as I held out a $10 note, she handed him a $50 note and a $5 note. “This 50 is for your sister for her wedding”, R was clearly taken aback by this unexpected generosity. If there was any lingering resentment stemming from the accident that day, then J had selflessly erased it even though her own car had suffered the worst damage by far on the front and back. When we left the taxi, we both were feeling actually quite good about her deed.
I learned today that J would likely have to lose her insurance discount though she was not at fault because most of the taxi drivers don't have insurance and even if the procedure were to go through an insurance claim it would take many weeks for the car to be repaired. In review of the hastle and frustrations suffered, I have now upped my gratitude and appreciation for the lifestyle I had in North America. I recall an incident when I had awoken one morning to find my car had the appearance of being vandalized during the night. I drove to work and phoned in the incident to the police department. Within 15 minutes, the officer had arrived at my workplace and met me to inspect the vehicle and take my statement. He then gave me a slip of paper telling me this was the police report. Now that is police service... instead of serving the police.
