Us and State Farm

Now it begins. E. talked with an SF person today, who was surprisingly skeptical of E.'s account of my Lady Wife being smashed into on the Fairbanks Grade-- oh yes, my wife, the Susan Boyle of drivers suffering underestimation when it comes to the quality of her driving.

Break into a couple bars of "Thunder Road," E.



You learned on a stick. Your mama drove her 'stang from Columbus, Ohio, to Roanoke, Virginia -- over all those twisty mountain roads -- in record time back there in '66, and the ignition doesn't fall far from the compression.

You are from Dee-troit, Mitchigan, and if you had been a biker chick in the original Road Warrior, Mel Gibson would have had a severely truncated career.

So I just spent a couple hours laboriously sending SF the photos of the scene and the aftermath. We are dealing with a young fellow who was not operating his vehicle at safe residential speeds.

It hurts me to say that, but it's true.

Let's See How State Farm Handles This One

I wrote yesterday about E.'s collision. Since it happened near the house, after her call I trotted down and took some pictures. Talk about a CSI moment.

When I downloaded the pix to my laptop and did some cropping, it became clear that E.'s uncertainty about exactly what happened resulted from the fact she was the whackee, not the whacker. In short, she was overtaken by a speeding youth who tapped our car, jerked the wheel hard right and ran off the road, through some plants and over some chunks of concrete and onto the sidewalk, all of this uphill.

Physics doesn't lie -- though, as in the case of quantum physics, it tells some rather puzzling truths. But in the macro world, Newton's laws still keep things simple.

At any rate, if I can figure out how to obscure license plate numbers, I may post the images. They tell a tale.

So now we shall see. Will the State Farm adjuster measure up to the task? Stay tuned.