“Hi Keaton! Daddy hit a truck.”

Stupid truckWhen I was in Oklahoma for my Grandfather’s funeral, I sat down for dinner with my family one evening and, awaiting our drinks, pulled out my iPhone to send an e-mail home to Keaton and Sharaun.  I titled the message, “Hi Keaton!  Daddy hit a truck.”  I typed, “I love and miss you and Mommy” in the body, attached a picture, and hit send.

Yeah, I hit a big ol’ delivery truck.

Earlier that day my I drove my brother and I over to my parents hotel (which, amazingly for middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma, was booked the entire weekend – forcing us into a different hotel just across the highway).  We were meeting up to head down the road a piece to the Indian (Native American?) casino – to blow off some steam and get some time away from all the “business” of the visit.  After heading up to their room to fetch them, we all climbed into my rented Mazda 5 and readied for the trip.

I started the car and glanced in the rearview mirror: all clear.  Then I fiddled with the iPhone setup, plugging in the concoction of cables I carry in my laptop bag at all times – just to be sure I can interface my iThings with whatever audio system I may encounter (rental cars, hotel stereos, etc.).  I got everything hooked up and pushed “go” on the Pandora Radio app (I put it on the Grateful Dead station, since a nice noodling road tune sounded appealing for the drive).  And, without re-checking the rearview mirror, I put the car in reverse and started away.


I looked behind me, fearing I’d hit someone, and all I could see was truck.  Sometime between when I’d originally checked the mirror and when I decided to pull out without checking again – a delivery truck had pulled up behind us so the driver could run into the hotel and drop off packages.  And now, I’d slammed into this inch-thick steel bumpers with the rented Mazda’s plastic fenders.  The Mazda didn’t stand a chance, and a quick look at the delivery truck showed nary a sign of incident.

We laughed, and ultimately headed off the casino.  Didn’t even stay to tell the driver, as our vehicle was rented and his was basically a tank there didn’t seem to be much point.  Dinged up the Mazda pretty good, but nothing a new fender wouldn’t fix (no metal/body damage that I could see).

When I turned in the car at the airport, I filled out an accident report.  For whatever reason, admitting I’d hit-and-run a delivery truck seemed “off” to me, so I wrote that someone backed into me in the hotel parking lot.  I have no idea why I chose to lie about this, when, ultimately, I don’t think fault plays a role when it’s an insured rental, but I did.  Oh, and trust me, Sharaun hasn’t let me live it down either – she was aghast at my fib.

Here’s the picture Keaton got that day:

Look what brown did for me.

Forgive me Hertz, I’m sorry.

All this week, whenever I’m backing up with the family in the (busted) Ford someone smartly warns – “Watch out for delivery trucks!”  Funny stuff, that.


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3 Replies to ““Hi Keaton! Daddy hit a truck.””

  1. Somewhat off topic, but I have also rented a Mazda 5 in the past during a business trip. I have a bit of a bone to pick with that car. There is nothing about that vehicle that I like. Firstly, it’s tiny, and I successfully smacked my head into the door-frame nearly every time I tried to squeeze my large body into that small opening they call a door. Secondly, the front seat doesn’t roll back far enough for us taller folks. My knees quite literally were pressed up against the dashboard. I was contorted into a position, such that it might appear that I was giving birth to a steering wheel. Not very ideal for safe driving.

  2. You’re not alone Dave. Jamie always teases me anytime there’s a bicyclist around when I’m driving. You hit just one person on a bike, they never let you forget it… He was homeless! Does that even count?

  3. Sometimes I forget you hit that homeless guy, but then I remember seeing it on the news back in college. What do you have against homeless guys anyway?

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