Insurance Doesn’t Cover Everything

With the treacherous winter driving conditions, there is bound to be an abundance of car accidents, resulting in an enormous amount of damage to vehicles. I’m sure many of you are under the impression, as I was, that you don’t have anything to worry about because you are paying a ridiculous amount of car insurance every month to protect your pretty little car.

I have learned the hard way that the $90 a month I pay (with a good-student discount) to a certain company (that has nothing to do with agriculture or people who farm) has protected my pretty little truck about as well as a fox protects a hen house.

My truck has been hit four times while it was parked. That’s right, four times - for a total of $1,500 in damage. Two of these were hit-and-run, and my insurance said they would gladly cover a hit-and-run for a mere $200 deductible and raise my rates $25 a month for the next two years. Hot dog, now that’s a deal you can’t beat. Being the smarty that I am, I did a little figuring and discovered that $25 a month for the next 24 months is $600, plus a $200 deductible. That’s $800 to fix a $500 dent. Now that’s what I call good coverage.

Needless to say, I still have a $500 dent in my door.

The next time my car was hit while it was parked resulted in a check in less than a week. The next time it took nearly two months. Every time I called to ask when I would be paid, their response was, “Your claim is currently being processed.”

So after a month of my claim being processed, I called my insurance company to ask for help. Their response was, “Would you like to place a claim, sir? It’s only $200 with an additional $25 a month for the next two years.” After explaining my situation for about an hour, I was put on hold for another hour waiting to talk to the manager, who then said, “I’m sorry sir, it would be far too much work for me to call this insurance company and tell them to hurry up, but if you’d like to place a claim it’s only …” (You know the deal).

So with that I waited another three weeks to get my check.

If you don’t think insurance companies are owned and operated by Satan yet, you will; I’m not done.

I’ve been in two accidents. On the first, I was driving down the road minding my own business, going the speed limit, when an old lady pulled out of her driveway and slammed into the rear fender of my truck.

When I got out of my car to inspect the damage, I heard an old wretched voice cackle, “That was a cute little trick you pulled.” I immediately replied, “Why thank you. I call that trick driving down my own lane. I’ll have to show you how sometime.”

She then began rambling some garbage about how she has been driving that road for the past 37 years. I guess that means she had assumed some ownership of the road.

I told her I wasn’t in need of a history lesson and would appreciate it if she would just call the police. About that time, her husband, who I’m sure was George Burns or at least related to him, came out in the yard yelling, “You bet I’ll go call the po-leese and have you arrested for reckless driving, sonny.”

While I was sitting in my truck waiting for the town marshal to come riding up on his horse, the odd couple started knocking on my window, yelling, “You got insurance? You best hope you got insurance.” I figured this was a good time to turn my stereo up and politely wave.

When the police officer arrived, he saw the old folks beating on my window and asked them to get back in their car.

While I was talking to him, the two were slowly making their way over, screaming, “He hit me, officer, he hit me, it was his fault.” They had to be told to be quiet and step back about five times.

The policeman told me I had the right of way and it was not at fault. He then went to get a very interesting story of how I caused the accident, combined with a history lesson explaining how she owns the road. This took around 20 minutes.

When the officer finally returned to my truck, he said that he wouldn’t be able to write a report on the accident, and he could only advise us to exchange insurance information.

Rather flabbergasted, I said, “So you’re not going to write her a ticket?” He said something like “No, I’m not because she claimed you passed her on the right and you just really have to watch out for the elderly these days.”

After getting the information from them I returned home and explained the ordeal to my parents.

Then I placed the claim for $450 under her policy and three weeks later her agent wrote me a letter saying they had denied my claim because our stories were conflicting. I was then forced to assume that this guy was brain dead and decided to call him. I might as well have been using sign language over the phone because he wasn’t going to hear anything I said.

Now I figured I would see if my insurance company could do anything. After getting the $200 plus the $25 a month sales speech from about all the secretaries and a few janitors, I was able to talk to the manager.

He said the only way I was going to get any money was to take this old lady to small claims court. He didn’t recommend it, though, because in the entire history of small claims court he had never heard of an 18-year-old being awarded anything.

He said unless I had the pope as a surprise witness, my chances of winning were around zero. But I could always claim it under my own policy for only … Needless to say, that lovely dent on my fender has joined the one in my door.

The second accident was much the same thing. Some crazy person in a Suburban crashes into the side of my truck because she’s unaware that the two-lane road had merged into a one-lane road. The police came, we exchanged information, I thought everything was fine.

Two days later I got a letter in the mail from my insurance company saying they could draw no conclusions and were unable to determine fault. I found out the woman’s husband is a retired LA cop (imagine that in North Idaho) and she had changed her story on the accident.

At this point, I was so mad my face turned a deep shade of purple and progressed to a navy blue.

The adjuster said, “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing I can do, and I hope you don’t think this has anything to do with you being 18.”

What I’ve learned is that the $90 a month I pay to this particular insurance company would be just as well spent on Cornuts and long-distance calls to my great uncle in Norway.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this whole system is totally corrupt. I mean, I do have the option of paying $200 plus an additional $25 a month for the next two years to have my truck repaired so I can continue to be run off the road by reckless drivers at my expense, and be blessed by an occasional hit and run.

There are two better options, as I see it, for a teen car owner. First: Sell your car and buy a bike, for you may only have days until a Suburban finds you. Plus bikes are far cheaper and don’t require insurance.

Of course, if you don’t think you can brave the elements or are a little out of shape, you can always try the second option: Buy a Suburban, marry an LA cop or George Burns, and start your own insurance company. See you on the road.