The car accident (with subliminal advertising)

By Andy Young

Monday has never been my favorite day of the week, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that a snowplow tore off most of my car’s rear bumper on one of them this past February. I hadn’t planned on that happening, but there’s a reason that motor vehicle mishaps are referred to as “accidents.”

At the moment of impact, I wasn’t feeling particularly fortunate, but in retrospect I believe that Feb. 3 was an extremely lucky day.

Why? Let me count the ways.

While the inauspicious start to the week sidelined my car temporarily, I myself was unhurt in the Monday morning misadventure. I was also fortunate from a fiscal standpoint, since like a good neighbor, the snowplow driver’s insurance company was there.

A motor vehicle accident can be a major inconvenience, but caring, decent, honest human beings who take pride in doing their jobs right can go a long way toward lessening the pain, and that’s exactly what happened in my case.

The plow operator who hit my car was first and foremost concerned about my condition following the collision, for which he took full responsibility. With a thousand other things going on in his life, in the aftermath of the accident he worked overtime to ensure I was treated right.

Next up were the professionals at the auto body repair place, who were understanding, thorough, and eager to put my car, like Humpty Dumpty, back together again. They kept me informed every step of the way and did so in a manner that was always cheerful and never Moody.

Finally, the Enterprising young woman at the car rental agency set me up with reliable and economical transportation for the three-plus weeks that my vehicle was undergoing surgery. She also made me an offer that required a quick decision.

I am not by nature a risk taker, but when I was given the option to purchase some extra insurance for my temporary ride, I did some quick math and decided to forgo the opportunity to pay $28 per day for the added coverage.

While I had my rental, a Toyota Prius with Maryland license plates, I used the most distant parking lot spots, drove the least-traveled roads available, and totally avoided parallel parking. Naturally the number of drivers who darted out of side streets without warning, stopped suddenly in front of me for no apparent reason, or changed lanes on the highway in my vicinity without signaling, began increasing at an exponential rate.

However, against all odds, after 27 days I brought the car back to the agency in the same condition it was in when I borrowed it. The sigh of relief I let out when I returned it was probably audible in both New Hampshire and New Brunswick. I had taken an uncharacteristic gamble on myself … and won!

But why do I consider an accident that sidelined my car for nearly a month lucky? Well, for starters, I’m just as healthy physically as I was before the incident. I also learned I can still, when necessary, handle inconvenience and adversity. And best of all I met Travis the snowplow driver, Ashley the car rental agent, and Ken the autobody specialist, three exceptionally kind, hard-working, innately decent people whose paths I most likely would never have crossed had it not been for that crash early on a snowy morning.

More than eight months remain in 2025, so it’s possible there are still some days ahead when I’ll get even luckier than I did on Feb. 3. But if I’m truly fortunate, I won’t get that lucky again anytime soon. <

Andy Young: Incompetence pays a dividend

By Andy Young

Like many males of his generation, my father was exceptionally good at working with his hands. Trained as an electrician, he also learned basic carpentry, mechanics, masonry, plumbing, and auto body repair. He could fix anything, so naturally he tried to pass some of his very practical abilities on to his children, starting with his oldest son.

Much to Dad’s disappointment, I wasn’t the most eager or hardworking apprentice. However, I ultimately mastered every skill he had, except those related to electricity, carpentry, mechanics, masonry, plumbing, and auto body repair. Today the only talent I have that he didn’t came courtesy of my maternal grandfather’s DNA. I can change nearly any indoor light bulb without needing a stepladder, something my 5-foot-7 father couldn’t always accomplish.

My failure to pick up any of those valuable skills was as much due to impatience as it was to any innate disability. Then, as now, I enjoyed trying things I quickly excelled at, but if I couldn’t master something instantly frustration kicked in, followed in short order by indifference, disdain, and, depending on how long certain adults insisted I keep trying, deep loathing.

In retrospect, being able to perform what some consider basic tasks would have saved me thousands of dollars over the years. Paying people to keep cars running efficiently, unclog pipes, repair furniture, put up sheetrock and rewire electrical outlets is expensive. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t taken any cruises or invested in any timeshares recently.

Or ever.

But every so often having a limited skill set can come in handy. Late last month my washing machine stopped completing the “spin” part of its job, meaning every load of laundry needed to be wrung out, item by item, and then line dried in the basement, since even a dope like me knows enough not to put dripping clothing into an electric dryer.

Getting a repairman to come diagnose (and subsequently fix) a large home appliance is difficult under normal circumstances, but it’s next to impossible to find one during the holidays. The few potential repairers who responded to my phone calls indicated they wouldn’t be available until the second week of the new year. There would be a significant cost just to have them show up, and the price of parts and labor was likely to dwarf that initial fee. The machine was already elderly when I moved into my current residence nine years ago, so a number of my well-meaning friends suggested I cut my losses and buy a new one. I considered that until I learned what new washing machines cost.

So, I did what comes naturally: nothing. But as my supply of clean clothing dwindled, I realized I needed to take action. I tentatively put in a test load consisting of just washcloths, socks, underwear, and thin t-shirts, all items which could, if necessary, be squeezed out manually and then hung up to dry. But before starting I felt around under the washing machine’s agitator and found two separate sizable wads of dried paper towels, which I hypothesized might have once been wet paper towels that maybe, just maybe, could have messed up my washer’s inner workings. The laundry came out fine, as did the next load, which consisted of heavier items like sheets, towels, jeans, and sweatshirts.

My inability to get anyone to come out and relieve me of several hundred dollars to see if my washing machine was salvageable resulted in the problem resolving itself, saving me lots of money and stress in the process.

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, against all odds, ineptitude actually pays off. <