Open letter to the person who hit my car yesterday

Dear hit and run driver,

I hope your day went better than mine did yesterday after you plowed into my car on the 405 South.

Well, actually I don't.

What I really hope is you had the worst day of your life, maybe something along the lines of crippling fear and paranoia you'll be caught for hitting two cars on the freeway then taking off on the nearest offramp.

Since the CHP said you must've been going about 80 mph when you plowed into me, the front end of your car must be in pretty bad shape. Surprised it was still running well enough to leave the scene. I hope your car was at least damaged to the tune of the estimated $10,500 dollars - so far - that you did to mine.

Also, thanks for worrying whether I was hurt or not. It's easy to understand why you'd think driving off after knocking my car, which was already going 55 mph, forward a couple more car lengths and sending me flying forward with all the inertia that kind of collision brings with it (good thing I had my seat belt on, huh?), would leave me relatively unharmed.

But enough about me. What about the other girl's car you side-swiped as you veered across three lanes of traffic to make your getaway? I'm going to bet she's not too happy with you either. I think if you ever start passing out apologies, you've better save one for her.

I know you don't know this, but she actually saw your face and remembered your tan Camry. Sadly she didn't get the license plate, because to follow you off the freeway would've meant her racing across three lanes to catch up with you. And unlike yourself, she didn't want to cause an accident.

But I hope you're losing a lot of sleep wondering if the she got the plate or not.

I wish you'd stuck around because I would've loved to know why you hit me. I wasn't stopped. You must've taken your eyes off the road for a sec. Texting maybe? Putting makeup on? Maybe looking for the nearest offramp in case you hit something - that'd be ironic wouldn't it.

I'd also like to know why you fled the scene. The CHP officer said it could be one of several things. Maybe you were driving with a suspended license. You could've been getting an early start being drunk or stoned. He also said you might not have had insurance so you were afraid you'd get arrested. Which you wouldn't have.

But you will now if someone calls in the damage on your car.

Odds are in your favor that unless you have a guilty conscience and call it in, you'll probably get away with it. I hope not. Even though I have nothing to base it on, in fact I have evidence to the contrary with you leaving and all, I'd still like to think you'll do the right thing.

If not, then all I can hope for is that kharma wreaks a nasty, ugly, expensive and unexpected revenge on your ass.

Because after all, kharma, like you, is a bitch.

Gunning it

It's been a very long time since I've gotten a speeding ticket. So I imagine the one I got this morning was not just for today's violation, but was in fact kharma for all the times in the past few years I've driven undetected just a tad higher than the speed limit allows.

I used to, well, like isn't the right word, not mind getting speeding tickets. Believe it or not, back in the days before the interwebs you actually had to go in person and spend a day in traffic school to get the ticket wiped off your record so your insurance wouldn't go up. That was the good news. The bad news is you were only allowed to do it once every 18 months.

There were many differently themed traffic schools to choose from. The reason I didn't mind so much is I always chose the Comedians Traffic School. It was taught by working stand-ups, so that made it a lot more bearable. Also it was usually held at the Improv or the Comedy Store - both former haunts of mine (remind me to tell you about the time I got up on open mic night at the Comedy Store in another post).

The other thing is it always gave me a chance to use my favorite traffic school joke.

Inevitably the instructor would say, "How many of you are here for speeding?" And I'd reply, "All of us who got here first." Alright, so it's not the best joke. These classes start early. Let's see how funny you are at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Anyway, here's the other thing about this morning's ticket: it wasn't my fault.

Wipe that smile off your face.

I'll have you know that both my wife and I suffer from a common affliction found in California that affects many drivers. It's supposedly a hereditary condition. We just pray to God we haven't passed it on to our children.

Car manufacturers alone hold the cure. They could make the right pedal much harder to push down. But they don't. In the same way the pharma companies are in bed with the doctors, the car companies are rolling in dough laughing with their insurance company pals.

At least that's what I tell myself. What else could it be?

The embarrassing thing about it is I wasn't even trying that hard. Apparently when it comes to getting speeding tickets, I'm just as much of an underachiever as I am in other areas.

As you can see, one of those areas is in Photoshop, trying to retouch identifiable personal information off the ticket so I could post it here.

But I digress.

The point is I was only going 51 in a 35. And since no one's under oath here - yet - the truth is I take that stretch of road much faster than 51 almost all the time. I guess all that means is I probably deserved it.

Although, again, not my fault. I have that condition.

I will say that the officer who gave me the ticket was very nice and professional about it. Not that I expected otherwise, but, you know, sometimes traffic cops are like a box of chocolates.

So I'll pay the fine, I'll go to online traffic school, and I'll be a good citizen and make a conscious effort to slow down when I'm behind the wheel and drive much more carefully overall.

At least until I'm eligible for traffic school again.

It's lonely at Lexus

When my Lexus service writer asked me this morning what I was bringing my ES350 in for, I said, "It's losing a $1000 a week. Anything you can do about that?" He was not amused.

But, after looking around, it was clear I'm not the only one unhappy the value of my car is going down like a bobsled to hell.

I like going to the Lexus dealership in Newport Beach. First of all, just being a Jew in Orange County always makes me feel like I've gotten away with something big. The dealership is like an extremely upscale mall - South Coast Plaza with 30-weight. While I was sitting on one of the many plush leather chairs in the customer waiting lounge, next to the Lexus café, in front of the video arcade and just around the corner from the Lexus clothing store, listening to the Georgetown basketball game on one of the three 62 inch HD televisions that surrounded me, I noticed something unusual.

I was alone.

Not just in the waiting area, but in the dealership. Not one other customer waiting for their car, not one person looking at new cars on the showroom floor. Obviously news of the recall being blasted across the front page and leading the news day after day is taking it's toll.

I took a bite of my all-butter croissant and a sip of my decaf latte I'd bought at the Lexus café and pondered this for a while. And looking out at the lot, with all those shiny, lonely new Lexus cars, here's where I came out.

It's kharma at work. It's the recall for Toyota/Lexus, and the economy for the rest of the dealers.

For years, these smarmy, slick, slimy, unctuous jerks have been sucking all the joy out of what should be one of the happiest and exciting purchases you ever make. Their service departments have been staffed by people who, if there were any real justice in the world, would be serving five to ten for armed robbery. When I used to have my Audi, I would bitch and moan to a friend how much it cost every time I took the car to the dealer for service. He looked at me, shook his head, and said, "How old do you have to be before you realize the dealer is always gonna screw you." He was right.

So this emptiness at Lexus and all the others? The pundits can call it what they want, but I think we all know what it really is.

Payback.

*photo courtesy GettyOne