I really do just hate it.
I’ve recently been delving into the world of crash for cash, and become immersed in the trivia and detail that is an insurance claim of any sorts.
I’m afraid to say that my dearest better half was the victim of a suspected crash for cash situation.
Whilst awareness is now rising it’s still very much a viable income for the couch-bound, Jeremy-Kyle-watching reprobates of this world when in need of some funds for single cans of Stella and 10 packs of Superkings. Other repulsive lifestyles are available.
For those who haven’t heard of it, it goes down like this. Car A breaks sharply for no reason, Car B breaks to avoid hitting it and the victim then hits the rear of Car B. Car A does a getaway act, thus placing blame on the victim at the back. It should be noted that they do it where there’s no CCTV, and in places where your attention is drawn elsewhere, a roundabout for example.
Cue a car full of urchins crawling out, all amazingly complaining of ‘chronic backache’ et al (shocking at a ‘bump’ of less than 10 mph) which can’t be recovered from without fifteen grand. Each.
Obviously taking time off their busy lives is a very costly exercise; I never appreciated the cost of drinking white lightning at 09:30 in the morning.
I got a call from my missus incredibly shaken up. It’d just happened and she was really upset, understandably so. She told me what happened and where, and then the line went dead. I grabbed my stuff and left the office, dispatching an ambulance on the way. In my mind’s eye, she’d gone into shock or worse… and was unable to answer her phone as I tried to call her back.
Just before getting into my car to head over, I got a call from her phone. Answered in foreboding I prepared to hear from someone wearing fluorescent material. Luckily it wasn’t, she reassured me she was OK and I should meet her at work. Which I did.
Turns out, and really rather luckily, no real damage was done. They’d balls’d it up and crashed into each other instead. Car A made off and left Car B to try and scrape anything they could. After a visit to A&E, the police, countless calls to insurers, and with countless calls from ambulance chasers I bring myself to the present.
Having a crash is perhaps the easiest bit to deal with. You heal, and move on, if you’re lucky.
However there are consequences that reach far into the distance. The anxiety it can cause, some people giving their driving licence up, the granular amount of detail insurance go to (rightly so given the morons out there who consider this a living), the endless phonecalls from everyone and anyone, and the enormous hike in insurance prices makes driving seem a ridiculous way to travel – given the risks involved.
Not just to your physical being, but financial and emotionally too. I wasn’t even in the crash and I regularly feel my blood pressure spike, this very article is probably knocking an entire day off my life.
But the worst part about this whole thing is this… The better looking half is the sweetest person you’re likely to meet, and she holds human nature on a very tall pedestal. I’ve read long and hard about crash for cash, and so in the same circumstances would have behaved with suspicion, distrust and probably anger. She was genuinely concerned for their wellbeing, asking them how they were are. That’s the bit of this that makes me absolutely furious.
Now I’m pondering how to proceed. Should I mount George my high horse and dive head first into battle. Or dismiss it and hope that the people that get paid to look at matters like this do so.
The problem is, I’m a firm believer that remarkably few people give a shit.
