Varifying Newton's research...

So... I learned something new today.

There’s a reason why the Nissan Sentra only costs around $13,000... and it’s not because their accountants lack the ability to count properly.

No... I'm wagering it's because they’ve created a vehicle made solely out of balsa wood and Styrofoam.

Or at least that's what comprises the front sections, as I unfortunately discovered this morning.

Yup that’s right, at approximately 8:30am, whilst making the journey to my current place of employment, my front bumper decided to engage in a rather intimate and somewhat humiliating “bonding” experience with the back of a Honda Civic.

Ya know, I really didn’t need a blog topic this badly...

Ok, so there’s a particular on-ramp to Storrow Drive down by the BU campus here in Boston that has been the source of much acrimony for me since my commute found its way to include said on-ramp in its path. Technically, it’s a yield... but the cars already ON the main road are traditionally traveling between 55-105 mph, so really the only thing you can do is accelerate slowly and try to merge when someone looks the other way...

Or at least I THOUGHT that was the only thing you could do.

Apparently, you can also start to accelerate into the merge and then change your mind at the last minute and slam on the brakes.

Who knew?

The guy traveling in front of me sure didn’t... taken completely by surprise at the lead car's, um... "spontaniety," he was forced to slam on his brakes... luckily, he stopped just short of making contact with the offending vehicle (who then, blissfully ignorant of the carnage he was causing, took off into traffic).

I however, wasn’t so lucky.

The first car stopped... the second car stopped... the third car (yours truly), tried to stop, but instead slid forward until it’s front bumper was conducting a rather impromptu proctology screening on a surprised piece of Japanese machinery.

Did I mention it was raining this morning?

I hit the brakes... the brakes hit wet wheels... the wheels hit wet pavement, and the car hit the wet Honda.

Thankfully I resisted the urge to wet myself.

The minivan behind me had come to the conclusion that aggresive braking might be its best course of action as well, and with luck, goodwill and a little bit of physics on it's side was able to stop a few feet short of hitting my vehicle... the car behind HIM however must have been operating with a high quotient of negative karma (no pun intended), because it decided to join me in my endeavor of attempting an amateur automotive colonoscopy, and thus was busy bumping bumpers with the minivan.

[no, I have no idea why I’m so fascinated with anally-fixated automobile metaphors today]

So there we were, four cars stuck on the side of the ramp, exchanging information, and waiting for a policeman to come and tell us if we had misbehaved.

I looked around at the other cars and noticed that they didn’t seem to be all that damaged... a few scratches here and there, but all in all it didn’t look that bad... we were on an onramp after all... we really hadn’t been traveling all that fast... then of course, I saw my poor pathetic little vehicle.

Imagine if you will, what it might look like if you punched a muffin in the face...

Now, I realize muffins don’t have faces per se... and, even if you could assume that they might, you may not be able to conjure up any reason why you would be inclined to punch one in that face, but work with me here, i'm painting a metaphor...

Basically, the front of my car currently looks like someone hooked a vacuum cleaner up to the tailpipe and set it on übersuck.

The grill is all mushed in, the emblem is hanging by a (cheap) thread, and the bumper has been split in the middle, revealing the all-too-disconcerting fact that a very thin plastic coating has been giving me a false sense of security in the safety of my vehicle, when in fact, all that lies between me and certain death is a piece a generic, run of the mill, “good for packing the teevee on a long trip to Rhode Island”, Styrofoam.

Joy.

So the policeman shows up and decides that quote:

“since there’s no real damage, I’m not going to bother writing this one up,”

and tells us that we should just work it out with our respective insurance companies.

I look back at the parts of my car that appear to have just suffered a severe nervous breakdown and contemplate alerting the policeman to his subtle inaccuracies, but in light of the fact that technically I was the one doing the rear-ending (and because I have a New York Jets cap prominently displayed in my back window) I decide against it.

With a heavy sigh, and a rolling of the eyes, I climb back in my bruised vehicle and head off to work...


Now the fun begins...

The calling of the insurance company.

The filing of the paperwork.

The raising of the rates.


And of course, the open weeping at the fact that I own a 6-month-old car that probably couldn't stand up to a Vespa.

...and I have a $1,000 deductible.