So remember the car accident we had on my birthday? Yeah, so do I. Well, it seems that the whack job who hit us has recanted. Despite apologizing on the scene, and admitting that he didn't see us, and irrefutable physical evidence to the contrary, he is denying that he broadsided our lovely little convertable with his ugly old rustbucket truck. The fucker. So Spouse spent hours last night on Google sattelite maps making elaborate charts and diagrams that show that there is NO WAY that we could have been at fault. It's just not physically possible. Not with the current laws of physics firmly in place. And I haven't heard this wing nut denying those yet. But it could happen.
So what has happened to our claim? Well it goes to arbitration. Yup. The companies are going to discuss it amongst themselves. And I might get to talk to investigators. Lucky me. I'll be nice, I promise. But I'll be quite clear. The bozo hit our asses. On my birthday. I hope he has bad dreams and hears my screams in his sleep. I curse him thusly.
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2 comments:
Good. Then goober with the ratty truck will suffer for his sins. And we will triumph with lovely, shiny autos that are impervious to rust.
Yea, Triple-P knows all about cars and smashed fenders.
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