It was a rainy and windy February morning when I arrived at my office — yes, way back when one would get up, shower, dress and drive to an office. I flipped on the lights, walked over to my desk and plopped down with my first espresso of the day. Weather like this could mean only one thing would be filling my workday — conversations about car accidents.
Checking email first, I had three regarding accidents. I immediately responded to those and then went on to check my voicemail. Another two messages there, one of which was from someone who had also emailed. So before the day began, four car accidents meant four people I needed to try to connect with first. I began dialing.
The names will be changed to protect the not-at-fault folks. Christopher was quick to say that he had a “little thing” happen and wanted to see about reporting the claim. This “little thing” entailed him backing over his own mailbox while exiting his driveway. Not his fault, he proclaimed, since the car was parked in the driveway, not in his garage, and the rear window and side-view mirrors were covered by rain, obstructing his view of the vengeful mailbox that must have moved from its usual location during the night.
But… but… my shoes were wet
Jodi was next. In a somewhat breathy voice, she told a fifteen-minute tale about how she was driving on the freeway and rear-ended someone. It wasn’t a big deal, not a lot of damage, nobody was really hurt, and she wanted to be sure I knew it was not her fault, although she professed her greatest apologies for the accident. In case I didn’t notice, she honestly touted, it’s raining cats and dogs this morning. I’ve never been a huge fan of this expression since I am a dog lover, and the image is troublesome.
Be that as it may, when she’d entered her vehicle that morning, her shoes were, of course, wet from the walk to her car — and actually wetter than even that since she was forced to step in a pool-size puddle when entering her vehicle. Her wet shoe simply slipped off the brake pedal before her car smacked into the car in front of her — she’d allowed plenty of space to stop, as any good driver would, but alas her shoe lacked the usual friction with the brake pedal.
Edward was the third person I spoke with, and he was mad. Not upset, frustrated or simply annoyed, he was mad. In a profanity-laced soliloquy of his morning commute, he gave life to the story of how he was rushing to his morning appointment. He is typically not someone to speed — I can verify this, he told me, with his lack of speeding tickets on his driving record.
However, today there was traffic due to the rain, and he was forced to drive in a manner in which was not typical for him. He had to get to this appointment, and going a bit over the speed limit was the only way to make up for the traffic jams caused by this darn weather! Not his fault — the rain forced him to drive over the speed limit or risk being late!
It was my husband’s fault
Finally, Frieda. Oh, yes, Frieda. A mother of four and twins in the bunch! This frazzled mom on the verge of tears told me just what her morning had been like. The twins were safely strapped in their respective car seats, and she was driving along on her way to daycare. She is a safe driver, hasn’t had an accident or a ticket in years, maybe decades. She wanted to be sure I remembered that, and as she told me this, I was waiting for the punch line.
Her crazy husband texted her. Normally, she wouldn’t check her phone while driving. However, since she had left the house only moments earlier, she suspected that it was something important, like she forgot the kids’ lunch or some such thing. During those few seconds she was reaching for her phone — I should be clear that she hadn’t even picked it up yet — she smashed into a car moving into her lane. She didn’t see it happen, exactly, since she was looking down for her phone. It wasn’t her fault.
These four stories are not anomalies. If you ask any professional insurance agent or broker, I can guarantee you they will have heard similar stories. While I can’t opine as to whether it is simply human nature to not take responsibility for actions that are clearly within your personal control or if it is the fear of a premium surcharge for a, gasp, at-fault accident, it is a mystery.
What distracted driving is
I can tell you that this theme of it never being your fault brings me back to my days in school where the big joke was to say your dog ate your homework. You did your homework, you did everything correctly, so how could it be your fault, or how could you be to blame for the dog’s actions?
Let me generalize without scolding or being flippant. Driving into your stationary mailbox is more than likely going to be considered a solo-negligent at-fault accident. Your foot slipping off the brake pedal is just that — it’s your foot, your action. Speeding? Never a good idea, let alone when the weather is wet and the roads slippery. And, for sure, whatever you do, keep your eyes on the road. Distracted driving includes anything taking your attention away from — wait for it — driving.
Drive safe.
