Colts and Collisions

I have never thought that screwing insurance companies was the right thing to do. I understand that the reason they charge so much is because they get screwed so much. They must lose billions to fraudulent claims and so those billions are recovered from the customers. I always felt it wasn’t right – until I actually had to deal with one of them.

It is a beautiful clear sunny day in Centurion sometime in 2007 when I was working for a Medical Aid Consultancy company. I had just started off and was trying my best to make ends meet by bringing home the odd commission deal. It was a strange stage of my life between being booted from Varsity and going to Dubai. I was that guy that came to your house, after hours, to watch you and your family eat dinner while I explained the fundamentals of medical aids and lied about how cute your rat-dogs were. You, chewing like a deranged cow on heat, listened and believed me (in my vast experience) about which plan was best suited for your needs.

Anyway, I am heading down Botha Avenue in Centurion on my way to a client around lunch time. I am driving my Dad’s Colt bakkie because my Ballade was getting the Vtec head fitted. Travelling along at 100km/h with a tuna mayo sandwich in my right hand and my eye on the clock I was going over my sales pitch in my head. I drove up and over this crest in the road and noticed the green traffic lights on the R103 in front of me. There was a truck, a small Telkom service truck, in the left turning lane and another guy in a Corsa in the right lane.

About 100m from the crossing, at 100km/h, I spotted the green turn to amber. I noticed the two cars in front of me heading through and I thought “Doug, you are already late. Just cram the hammer down and fly threw the orange”. I pressed down on the accelerator, she plucked up more speed, I looked down to place my sandwich on the chair and when I looked back up again the paw-paw was all over the fan.

The truck on my left was not turning. It was stationary. They had their indicator on with those outriggers out while servicing the overhead cables there. “Kak! Okay that’s fine, shift across one lane” The Corsa stopped. Out of all the times for Karma to throw me the one single law abiding, safety conscious, beige suited citizen this was the worst time. I smashed on the breaks, all four wheels locked up as I tried to spin her out sideways but the under steer just held me on target like train tracks. This is going to end badly. If I collide with the Telkom truck that guy is going to fall 5 or so meters onto the road below (more than likely on his noggin) and end up either dead or in a wheel chair.

Then, like the scene from Dukes of Hazard I shouted out loud “THINK SKINNY!” and aimed for the tightest of gaps between the outrigger and the Corsa. That gap was so tight…so tight I couldn’t fit. BOOM!

I smashed into the outrigger which crumpled the front left to hell and bashed me over to the Corsa. The seat-belt ripped out my shoulder joint, my forehead greeted the steering wheel with speed and my lungs decided it was best not to hold any more air. I sat there, struggling to breathe when I focused in on the occupants of the Corsa. They were okay, so was the man on the rig. A young fella came running to my window and was like” “Dude!?! Are you okay?” to which I responded by forcing my shoulder back into the socket with a hearty bout of swearing. It hurt like hell. He just ran away.

So now what? My father is fully insured and I made a mistake. We all make mistakes. I was just relieved that nobody other than me was injured. The vulture Tow Truck driver towed my heap to the side of the road and traffic went on as normal.

I called my Fathers insurance company and explained to them I had been in an accident. “I am not injured but the bakkie is pretty badly damaged. My Dad has lent me his car while mine was in for service. I was on the way to a Client and blah blah” I explained to the friendly customer agent. Little did I know, and in hindsight I should have, that they are well trained in the dark arts of screwing clients. He happily nodded away as I spilled the beans. He then ate those beans and farted in my face.

They didn’t pay. Not one cent. All because I told them the whole truth. I told them I used my Dads bakkie to go see a client which means the vehicle was being used for business use and so it falls outside of the insured parameters. The damages were less than the scrap value, my father had been a client for 15 years without a single claim and they didn’t pay a cent.

So that got me thinking. Is this why we screw insurance companies? Is this why when they call we don’t give them the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Because we all know that somewhere in that 100 page fine print document there is some clause there that will void our claim?

“Sorry Sir, your house fire claim has been declined. You had a bunny as a pet outside of hunting months!”