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Well, my prediction of further unexpected events continues to hold true, but has spared my health for a change.
I was walking home a week ago for lunch and ran into a neighbour waiting for me in front of our building. He informed me that some drunk kid had gone on a wild ride a night or two before. While bakcking out of the parking lot behind, he dented the corner of my car before hitting a downspout and backing into some cars parked on the street.
It isn't really my car, but my mother's car. Since my grandfather cannot comfortably get into my car, we traded cars so I could drive them around when necessary. This was actually a mixed blessing, as my car just had a few scratches and dents repaired while my mother's car still has some. I would not be happy if my freshly repaired car had received brand-new damage before I'd even finished paying for them.
The police came and got my information, but somehow managed to lose it. I had to give it to them all over again over the phone. They also said that there were no witnesses to the collision, but we were still able to file with the insurance company anyway. When the insurance company told my mother to get an incident report for them, the police told me that a copy would be sent in the mail; I'm not sure if this is actually going to happen because they still didn't have my information on the case file when I went to pick one up. They'd better find it fast because there's no way we're paying for the repairs; let the little brat's insurance pay for it. His mother (who also lives in my building) even said he was responsible!
Went back home last weekend. VIA Rail had a seat sale on--29 dollars to go to London, where my mother picked me up to drive me the rest of the way. On the way up my train was delayed by the westbound. It worked out well because my mother was running late as well. A transport truck carrying garbage to the London landfill caught fire and backed traffic up, adding at least another half-hour to her trip. It was still smoking when we drove past it on our way to Cambridge. Smelled like hot dogs on a campfire.
The train back to Windsor was late as well. The previous train was held up nearly three quarters of an hour by a freight train, so it was still in the station when mine was due to arrive. We sat outside Windsor for about fifteen minutes until the track was clear. Strange that they needed to do that, since Windsor station has three tracks. A sad testament to passenger rail in Canada as we know it; the Quebec City-Windsor Corridor is the "good" part of the system.
I was walking home a week ago for lunch and ran into a neighbour waiting for me in front of our building. He informed me that some drunk kid had gone on a wild ride a night or two before. While bakcking out of the parking lot behind, he dented the corner of my car before hitting a downspout and backing into some cars parked on the street.
It isn't really my car, but my mother's car. Since my grandfather cannot comfortably get into my car, we traded cars so I could drive them around when necessary. This was actually a mixed blessing, as my car just had a few scratches and dents repaired while my mother's car still has some. I would not be happy if my freshly repaired car had received brand-new damage before I'd even finished paying for them.
The police came and got my information, but somehow managed to lose it. I had to give it to them all over again over the phone. They also said that there were no witnesses to the collision, but we were still able to file with the insurance company anyway. When the insurance company told my mother to get an incident report for them, the police told me that a copy would be sent in the mail; I'm not sure if this is actually going to happen because they still didn't have my information on the case file when I went to pick one up. They'd better find it fast because there's no way we're paying for the repairs; let the little brat's insurance pay for it. His mother (who also lives in my building) even said he was responsible!
Went back home last weekend. VIA Rail had a seat sale on--29 dollars to go to London, where my mother picked me up to drive me the rest of the way. On the way up my train was delayed by the westbound. It worked out well because my mother was running late as well. A transport truck carrying garbage to the London landfill caught fire and backed traffic up, adding at least another half-hour to her trip. It was still smoking when we drove past it on our way to Cambridge. Smelled like hot dogs on a campfire.
The train back to Windsor was late as well. The previous train was held up nearly three quarters of an hour by a freight train, so it was still in the station when mine was due to arrive. We sat outside Windsor for about fifteen minutes until the track was clear. Strange that they needed to do that, since Windsor station has three tracks. A sad testament to passenger rail in Canada as we know it; the Quebec City-Windsor Corridor is the "good" part of the system.
