Intuition

The snow started falling heavily late yesterday afternoon . . . so much so that Doug and I figured both basketball practice for Beck and swim practice for Frank would be cancelled. I called the Y and they told me it was the coach's call. If we didn't hear from the coach, practice was on. I looked out the window again, skeptical. Around the same time we got an email from the swim coach confirming the cancellation.

I asked Doug to be careful right before he and Beckett walked out the door. In fact, I think I said it three or four times in the course of twenty minutes, trying to talk him out of going. He assured me my car was safe, they'd be fine.

A few minutes after they left, my phone rang. Caller ID confirmed it was Doug calling. "We're fine," he said, "but someone just ran into us."

The roads were icy, someone slid into Doug and Beck. And as he said, they're fine. The car isn't. Presently it isn't drivable.

This morning I've spent almost two hours talking with our insurance company, filing an accident report with the Colorado State Patrol since they were on "cold reporting," last night when it happened, and remain so this morning. The whole cold reporting thing makes me nervous. It becomes a question of he said/he said in this case, since both drivers were male.

Doug was stopped at the stop sign at the corner of Lake Woodmoor Drive and Woodmoor Drive, waiting to make a left on the latter. There was one car in front of him, and several cars behind him. None of them stopped to offer themselves as witnesses. The guy who hit him was making a right turn onto Lake Woodmoor from Woodmoor . . . and slid into him. When they were exchanging information he told Doug he was sorry. He also told him his wife was going to kill him.

When Doug got home, he started giving me all the information he collected. It was tough given they were doing this in the middle of a blizzard. Instead of getting the auto insurance, the other driver mistakenly gave him their health insurance card. Doug was using his phone to take photos of all of it, some of which turned out, some did not.

When I called our insurance company last night, they asked for Doug's driver's license number. That's when he discovered it wasn't back in his wallet. Chances are likely he dropped it and it is buried in snow. He went back to look this morning, but didn't find it.

We called the other driver last night to tell him two things. One, we didn't have his correct insurance info, and two, to ask him to look in his car for Doug's license. We didn't talk to him either time they returned our call. I talked to his wife. Or should I say "estranged" wife, who told me they were separated, that her husband didn't live here, but instead was visiting from Florida (although the husband did give us his place of employment, which is in Colorado Springs, and his cell is obviously his work cell, a 719 number, and he mentions the place of business). She also told me he wasn't supposed to be driving her car, and that since it was icy, there'd be no way to prove whose fault it was. Through the course of her over-sharing, I responded with a polite "thank you for calling me with your insurance info, and goodbye." She'd continue to talk. Finally I said, "I wasn't driving and I'm not comfortable discussing this with you, thank you again for giving me your insurance information, and goodbye." And I hung up.

She called back again to tell me her husband didn't find Doug's license, and continued trying to convince me that we shouldn't file a claim because our insurance rates would go up. Uh, okay. Well, my car isn't drivable lady. I didn't say that, but politely repeated what I said before and hung up. I told Doug that if she called again, he could talk to her. She didn't.

Today begins the painful process of having the car inspected, arranging for a rental car, etc. I have no intention of leaving the house today unless it is absolutely imperative I do so. Therefore the rental car can wait until the road conditions improve.

As it turns out, their insurance agent is our insurance agent, for everything but auto. I hope that helps the process, but don't hold out too much hope it will make a big difference.

Doug made mention of my insistence they not go out last night. He beat himself up over and over for the mistakes he made in getting the right info, losing his license, and on and on. Finally I walked over and took his right hand in mine. I brought them both up to his heart. "Feel that?" I asked. "What?" he answered. "Your heart beat." He nodded that he did. "You're here, Beckett is here, and both your hearts are beating. That's all I care about, and all I want to talk about." Miraculously, he relented, and stopped his self-beratement.