It’s been a week of accidents. I got the scratches; the RAV got the dents. I’m OK . . . my mishap was minor. The RAV, though, may be totaled. We’ll find out sometime next week.
As I write this, we’re traveling south in a brand-spanking-new 2007 RAV, and I’m nursing a bandaged leg.
How it all unfolded . . .
Jeff had to work the Tuesday after Christmas, so I offered to ferry him to Camden Station that morning, to catch the MARC train to DC. On the way there, though, we got rear-ended on O’Donnell Street, after I stopped for a crosswalk pedestrian. The collision wasn’t bad enough to injure us (head restraints work marvelously well), but it was enough to cream the RAV’s rear door, right taillight wiring, and (very likely) the frame. On a 2001 RAV with 157K on it, that’s probably enough damage to render it useless, insurance-wise.
Oh, it’s still driveable . . . but now it’s extremely well air-conditioned. At least in the winter. Ah, the whistlin’ wind . . .
We do have two cars, so ordinarily, we’d still be OK after taking a hit on one of ‘em. But we were scheduled to leave for Florida on Wednesday. With our bikes. And bikes don’t fit too well in a Camry.
What to do?
My first thought was to rent a car for the Florida trip. After getting back from the MARC station, I called up Enterprise’s web site to see what it would cost to rent an SUV for 10 days. Hmmm . . . About a thou. That’d be a waste of money, for sure, and the vehicle would be less than ideal. Most SUVs, you see, don’t have the interior height to properly accommodate bicycles. A RAV is virtually the only small SUV that can do so. (Well, I think the Nissan, can, as well, but I don’t like Nissans.)
Well, shoot . . . why not buy another RAV? We were planning to, anyway, in a few months. I e-mailed Jeff; he agreed (having also done his own research on car rentals). I offered to do the legwork.
So, instead of trolling after-Christmas sales at Crate ‘n Barrel and the malls, I spent my day-after traipsing through car dealerships. Life sure has a way of changing your plans when you least expect it, doesn’t it?
Jeff and I have purchased numerous autos in 26 years, and each time, it gets easier. One huge reason: the Internet. Auto dealers these days offer a wealth of info on their websites. I was able to scroll through lists of actual inventory (and prices) to determine where best to start. Fitzgerald Toyota and 355 Toyota both looked promising, and they were also close by.
I first went to 355 (in retrospect, I’m not sure why), where I was greeted by a friendly, eager, unfortunately green salesman with (again unfortunately) less command of the English language than such position requires. (They must be really desperate for warm bodies at that dealership.) While I was able to inspect and test-drive a 2007 RAV, as well as measure the interior space to make sure the bikes would fit, I was not able to get any straight answers to any of my technical questions. “Is the JBL radio XM-ready? Can you install it here?” “I dunno.” “What‘s this button for?” “I dunno.” (It engages the 4-wheel drive.) “Do you have this [inventory #] RAV available?” First: “It’s on the lot somewhere.” Then: “It’s undergoing inspection.” Finally: “We sold that one.” I was told I didn’t need a V-6. “Why?” “It’s too much power.” (Huh? A chick can’t drive a powerful car?) And so on.
I must have spent about an hour and a half at 355, long enough for it to become late afternoon and for Jeff to take the Metro and a taxi and join me there. He couldn’t get any better answers than I, and when we finally were told that the blue RAV we were interested in was not available, and were being given the hard sell on a black RAV we emphatically did not want, we walked out. (Mr. Green Sales Guy walked us to our car; I thanked him for his time and silently wished him luck and a few more English lessons.) Jeff said he’d been e-mailing a salesman at Fitzgerald, so we hopped in our wounded RAV and drove on up the road.
Harry (short for Harcharan) is the Internet salesman at Fitzgerald Toyota. He was a definite 180 from Mr. Green Sales Guy: both knowledgeable and efficient. (And perfect English, too.) He was able to show us several RAVs that would suit us. We ended up choosing a Limited in Nautical Blue. We drove it home that night, and took the old RAV to True2Form the next day, where it’s awaiting a final verdict.
Enough talk: here are some pictures:
Poor dented RAV . . .
The underframe got it, too . . .
The spare wheel is actually supposed to be vertical.
New RAV, and a warped reflection of the photographer. Or, perhaps, a reflection of the warped photographer . . .
The bikes fit inside very nicely, though I have to remove the seat from Jeff's bike, due to height restrictions.
I had to make a new bike board, to fit this car's greater width.
Ah, the joys of bike tripping!
Oh, yeah . . . My leg. That’s bike-related, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. We spent a couple of days in Charleston, SC on our way to F.L.A, and this morning we decided to bike around the city a little, early in the morning, before traffic got bad.
So what did I do? Pull another one of my famous fall-over-at-a-stoplight stunts, of course. This time with onlookers (two guys in the pickup truck behind us, and a few pedestrians, who were no doubt much amused by my “God-DAMN it!” and various other expletives). And this time, I tore up my right calf really badly on the big chainring. (So much for getting an even tan at poolside next week.) Fortunately, there was a Harris Teeter nearby, so we biked over to it for bandages and gauze. As I was cleaning my leg whilst sitting on a bench outside of HT, a woman passing by said, “Skeeters getting to you?” “No,” I said, “I fell and tore my leg up.” “Oh,” she said, and moved on rather hastily. (Pretty safe bet she's not an RN.) Afterward, we biked over to Joseph’s, a splendid gen-u-wine Southern breakfast-and-lunch joint. Having tried their sweet potato pancakes the day before, this time I opted for their French toast. Mmmm . . . excellent choice.
All’s well that ends well, I guess. One thing’s for sure, though: I’d better start carrying bigger bandages in my first-aid kit. (I ended up finding some fabulously huge Tegaderm patches at CVS.)
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