Lorraine Complains: We all pay for a parking lot hit-and-run

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Some people are just complete asshats.

If you bash someone’s car in a parking lot and take off, you are the most complete kind of all. It’s such a basic part of the decent human code that its absence makes me form all kinds of opinions about you. I bet you don’t return your cart, and I bet you cheated on your exams.

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Somebody punched in the lower section of the passenger side doors of my little hatchback. It’s black, the leave-behind paint was white. There is zero chance they didn’t know they smucked into my car — the dent is bad, and the paint well broken. They would have had to stop and back up, and park again — or more likely, taken off hoping nobody noticed. I don’t venture out frequently, so it was in one of two parking lots. I didn’t even notice until my car was in my driveway, and returning from a walk I finally saw the passenger side. 

You can absolutely have many thoughts all occur at the same time. Mine were: 

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Bit of housekeeping: Financial Services Regulatory Authority of Ontario (FRSA) posts this handy checklist for what to do if you’ve been involved in a collision. Your insurance company has similar lists on their sites. There are timeframes for reporting (check your policy), and directions for when to involve police.

In Ontario, you call the police if:

The only thing injured was a hatchback (I seriously hope the other car was damaged enough that someone would stop and point and yell, “hey, what happened to your car?” really loud), and if the basher was impaired I’ll never know; 2 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon in a suburban No Frills parking lot doesn’t strike me as a particular party destination. But let’s have a discussion about that other thing: that $2,000 thing. 

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I will hazard a guess that unless you are currently working as a body shop technician, you will be hard-pressed to estimate the cost of fixing your battered ride. Don’t be insulted. Modern cars are a testament to safety for their occupants, but that safety comes at a cost. The sensors and cameras, the heated, computerized this and that, combined with bumpers and fenders sporting numerous clips that snap like Fritos when hit, means a ton of hidden things that can be damaged that you just can’t see. Asking a layperson to determine what constitutes $2,000 damage is like asking a snail to juggle.

I knew I would have to get to the police collision reporting centre, but first I wanted an idea of what I was dealing with and swung by my local body shop. My first thought had been, “crap, both doors involved. Where am I gonna find $3,000 right before Christmas?” but I needn’t have worried. 

$5,000. The front fender wasn’t touched but will have to be removed for access for them to fix the rest. I called my insurance broker who told me two reassuring things. First, my deductible was half what I thought it was, and second, because it was a hit-and-run (failure to remain in police-speak), it wouldn’t impact my future rates. But guess what? This stuff impacts all of our rates. 

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Take a look at that picture. $5,000. And that’s just my car. How are people supposed to accurately gauge a total of $2,000? They can’t. We’re coming into slide and crash season. If you’re involved in even a parking-lot bash, don’t let someone talk you into “settling this amongst ourselves.” Report to a reporting centre. My car is only two years old; there is no way I do not want it fixed properly with OEM parts. I’m not saying the other party can’t opt to pay for the repair directly, but you get your vehicle fixed by your preferred supplier, not their Uncle Ron. 

I do not lose my mind when things get broken. I may growl a little, but what’s done is done, and I am always grateful when people don’t get hurt. I’ve had enough rough spots in my life that I fully believe if your problem can be fixed with money, you are luckier than many. In that spirit, I am allowing myself to believe one of the following scenarios played out on that fated day in the supermarket parking lot:

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The world sucks enough. We all know it. Let’s maintain the basic human contract we’re clinging to. Do the right thing.