One tank of fuel: $25
Insurance deductible: $250
Christmas without mother-in-law: priceless.
It's almost funny now, when my beloved Renegade is in the shop, I am driving a rental, and we indeed don't have to celebrate the holidays with granny, who I was supposed to bring from Cincinnati for that cheerful occasion. The trip didn't go all that well - some 80 miles south of Cleveland I hit an ice patch, lost control of the vehicle, spun across all three lanes of I-71 and bumped into guardrail. Twice. With both front and rear bumpers, don't remember the order. And, of course, I stalled, half way in the ditch, driver's side to the traffic, blocking the right lane.
Am I just lucky, or am I simply not supposed to die in a car accident? That was my third time starring at the several sets of slowly approaching headlights, aimed at my vehicle, helplessly sitting on the way of the deadly flow. And, once again, somebody stopped, somebody steered away, and nothing happened. I turned the key - the engine started. I got back on the freeway, pulled over to the left and stopped on the media to examine the damage.
Rear bumper - broken, rear well cover - gone, front bumper - broken and touches the wheel, turn signal - gone, fog light - crooked, so was the fender and the grill. All - driver's side.
The car, however, was drivable, there was no internal damage, so I turned on low four, plowed through the media to the other side, and headed back.
Now I know, that going 70 on snow is not a good idea. If you manage to stay alive, you will end up driving a sorry excuse for a transportation device, aka Chevy Malibu for several days, which is painful and frustrating.
The shop promised to take it back in exchange for my dear Liberty at the end of the first week of January.
I hate breaking things, especially the ones I like.
Insurance deductible: $250
Christmas without mother-in-law: priceless.
It's almost funny now, when my beloved Renegade is in the shop, I am driving a rental, and we indeed don't have to celebrate the holidays with granny, who I was supposed to bring from Cincinnati for that cheerful occasion. The trip didn't go all that well - some 80 miles south of Cleveland I hit an ice patch, lost control of the vehicle, spun across all three lanes of I-71 and bumped into guardrail. Twice. With both front and rear bumpers, don't remember the order. And, of course, I stalled, half way in the ditch, driver's side to the traffic, blocking the right lane.
Am I just lucky, or am I simply not supposed to die in a car accident? That was my third time starring at the several sets of slowly approaching headlights, aimed at my vehicle, helplessly sitting on the way of the deadly flow. And, once again, somebody stopped, somebody steered away, and nothing happened. I turned the key - the engine started. I got back on the freeway, pulled over to the left and stopped on the media to examine the damage.
Rear bumper - broken, rear well cover - gone, front bumper - broken and touches the wheel, turn signal - gone, fog light - crooked, so was the fender and the grill. All - driver's side.
The car, however, was drivable, there was no internal damage, so I turned on low four, plowed through the media to the other side, and headed back.
Now I know, that going 70 on snow is not a good idea. If you manage to stay alive, you will end up driving a sorry excuse for a transportation device, aka Chevy Malibu for several days, which is painful and frustrating.
The shop promised to take it back in exchange for my dear Liberty at the end of the first week of January.
I hate breaking things, especially the ones I like.