"Our first driver is a really nice guy. I like him a lot. But he is not a good driver. He makes me nervous. I'm not often nervous, riding in a vehicle. "
Prophetic Heather. We got him again this morning.
He changed lanes at the last second, while in the left turn lane (which seemed to get the supervisor and the policeman VERY upset - I guess that's a "bad"), and hit a Mercedes. On my side. The impact occured about 3 feet from my legs.
Thank you JESUS I am fine. It could have gone very badly. What if it had been a big rig? He could have killed me. He could have put me in a wheelchair. I could be in surgery.
How did it happen?
Well, he picked us up. We were going to the Sam's Club on Richey road. We had another pickup.
The other client was waiting for us. Good. She had a large folding handcart and some "junk". The driver loaded the cart and stuff into the backseat. I rode in the front passenger seat. She sat behind me.
She immediately began ranting about him "being late" and "I have to get to work, we had better be taking me straight."
The driver, a very nice guy, is pretty easily flustered. He began stammering and told her he had to drop us first "Well, you'll go right PAST MY JOB" she lied.
I told him no, he wouldn't. If he took her first he would pass our drop off, which is why they had it set that way.
"It's just a minute out of the way" she insisted. No, it is 10 miles each way out of the way, and I told him that. He told her sorry, he'd "have" to take us first.
She began complaining bitterly about how Ron and I were going to "make her lose her job". The driver got so distracted he got in the wrong lane. I told him, and he corrected - right into the Mercedes.
The other driver was not happy. We pulled into the Sam's parking lot.
The drivers started yelling at each other. The mercedes made a phone call and began shouting in her native language. I think it was Arabic.
The driver refused to let Ron out of the cab for over an hour and a half. He was tied down in the back compartment. The other client got so vociferious I got out, removed my folding chair from the wheelchair compartment, left the back hatch open, and chatted to Ron as I sat in my folding chair.
The other client got progressively more irate, demanding the driver leave the scene of the accident and take her to work. By this time, the other driver had taken a photo of the cab number and license plate, so I told her he'd go to jail.
"I'm going to lose my job over this" the driver moped.
"Well, if I have to lose my job you do too!" the other client snapped. She kept demanding someone take her to work.
Your boss will understand, I told her.
"You don't get it." She bit off the words. "You don't work..."
I began laughing hysterically, leaning forward in my chair and slapping my legs as I wheezed with laughter. Ron explained we had our own business, in addition to the caregiving. "She works two jobs."
She stopped talking to us after that. She told the other driver it was our guy's fault.
One thing you have to understand about Metrolift: service is given based on the understanding that you are infirm and unable to get to the bus stop, on your own. That you are unable to walk very far or manage bus transfers on your own. Like Ron.
So, Ron and I were quite cynical when the other client took out her "buggy", loaded it up, and marched off, dragging it behind her. She moved faster than me, and the last time I saw her she was about a mile away, walking fast and moving strongly.
Her little tantrum will probably cost her service. Ron made sure to pass that on, along with the fact she was castigating the driver at the time of the accident.
Eventually the supervisors arrived. We gave our names and told them we were OK.
Ron tearfully confided he was having trouble seeing, alarming one supervisor until I started wheezing with laughter. She looked at him, saw he was totally blind, and gently smacked his shoulder.
Now, the driver had told management "She hit me" but when they saw the damage: her back driver's side panel; his front passenger side panel (right by my legs!), and heard the drivers' accounts of the accident, they immediately pointed the finger at him.
When Metro Police arrived, I went off to the side, well away from the driver. "Tell me the truth" he told me. I forget I am easily read.
I told him exactly what happened, in the left turn lane, went over one lane, saw the car coming up beside me, crunch.
I didn't tell anyone he talked about leaving the accident from almost the minute it happened, or how the other client encouraged him to do so. That's a misdemeanor. I talked him into staying.
Oh, I forgot to add; he didn't want to give her his insurance or name, because "The company will take care of that." He is in for a very brutal shock. I didn't mention that, they didn't ask.
The other driver told them anyway.
Finally, they let us go. Ron, literally, released from 4 tie downs and 2 seatbelts (he was fine of course).
We went to Sam's and got our stuff (mainly canned Mountain Dew). Ron had adjusted our appointment with the repairman, who, when he arrived, showed me how to fix the problem on my own next time.
I stocked my candy bars (only 30), and made sure the kids (machines) were happy. We stocked the bottled vendor and replenished our cold soda inventory (we have a case of "each" in the fridge). Finally, time to go.
Ron reminded me we'd made a trip to our favorite taqueria. Los Jaliscos on Veterans and Antoine.
Yes, I wanted to go. I needed a treat.
We had a good ride - all my other rides today were great, with skilled drivers I trust. It's just the odd "joker".
We got out and I decided to try something new. A shrimp quesadilla.
It was stuffed with delicious, lightly seasoned, shrimp. Oh, I couldn't even finish it. I tried. Breakfast tomorrow.
Ron got Chilaquiles but he's incredibly messy eating them.
We had a good ride home. The driver said "You seem kind of upset" about the accident.
Uh, yeah. A very nice guy, who's a terrible driver, could have put me in a wheelchair, killed me, or cost me a leg today.
I think I'm a little freaked.
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