Twenty years of marriage have taught me a mystifying, yet irrefutable, equation: my wife’s car + parking on the street overnight = crushed wreck in the morning.
This has now happened to us five times — five times!
Over the years, we’ve learned our lesson. When we’re in Baltimore, I park on the street; Shana parks in the garage. But there are rare occasions when she has no other choice than to park on the street. For instance, a few weeks ago, when the alley behind our house was closed for sewer repairs, she had to park out front. We went to bed that night hoping for the best; in the morning, her car was toast.
In the beginning, we thought it was simply bad luck, but now we know it’s more on the order of a curse. The first time it happened was with Shana’s very first new car, a Subaru Impreza. She was so proud of it! We were living in an apartment in Bethesda, Maryland that didn’t offer parking, so the only place to leave it was on the street. That arrangement worked well until the morning she found it in a mangled heap, totaled by a drunk driver.
There followed a long and tedious dance with the court system, insurance companies, and body shops. I learned a few rules of thumb from that first collision:
1. The car will take much longer to repair than anyone says it will.
2. There will always be something wrong when you go to pick it up the first time.
3. Avoid dealing with the other guy’s insurance company at all costs.
A few years later, I learned another important lesson about cars that suffer a major collision: they lose a significant amount of their value the instant they’re hit.
No matter how good a job the body shop may do, when it’s time to trade in the car, the dealership will run a report, and if it’s been in an accident, they’ll immediately subtract 30 to 40 percent — or more — from their offer.
There’s actually a legal term of art for the invisible loss your poor car has suffered: “diminution of value.”
Fifteen years ago, some insurance companies would play dumb when you uttered that phrase. Or maybe it was just the agents I dealt with. But these days, they seem to be better trained. Even so, you may still have a conversation like the one I had a few weeks ago with an otherwise extremely helpful agent:
ME: So the car has been towed to the body shop, and we’ve been told that the repair will take about a month.
AGENT: Great. Sounds like you’re all set.
ME: Well, not entirely. What’s the proper timing for a “diminution of value” claim?
[pause]
AGENT: If you’re not happy with the work from the body shop, don’t worry. We’re here to help.
ME: I’m sure the body shop is going to do a great job. I’m talking about the loss of value the car has suffered as a result of the collision.
AGENT: When you get the car back, if you’re not completely satisfied, we’ll send someone out to —
ME: Let me interrupt you there. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that the body shop is fantastic. The work is perfect. The car comes out looking brand new. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the day I go to trade in the car, and the dealer runs a report and tells me that it’s not worth very much because it’s been in a collision. I know this will happen, because I’ve been through it several times.
[pause]
AGENT: Sir, I know exactly what you’re talking about.
ME: Great! So how do we get the ball rolling on a “diminution of value” claim.
AGENT: Here’s the thing. We can’t even begin to get into that until you get the car back from the shop…
So the dance continues. When Shana and I finally get the car back, I’ll meet with an insurance agent who’ll examine the repair work in minute detail. He’ll find flaws I can barely see. He’ll write down a number and say something like, “Here’s what I think it’ll take to get the car where you want it. We’re happy to pay for the work. Or, if you’d prefer, we can cut you a check for that amount.”
At which point, I’ll patiently explain that the issue isn’t cosmetic; that we’re talking about a greater loss of value than a mere paint blemish or hidden dent; that the number I have in mind is quite a bit larger.
Eventually, after making a complete nuisance of myself, and perhaps bolstering my claim with letters and testimonials, the insurance company will settle with us.
At that point, even though we probably won’t be completely whole, I’ll call it a day. We’ll deposit the check, and Shana will proceed to drive the repaired car for as many years as it’s road-worthy.
Driving a car into the ground isn’t a great solution, but it does seem to hold the curse at bay.
