Once upon a time, in 2002, I lived in Ammon, ID near Idaho Falls. We had been renting a home and were in the process of building a home of our own. One day we had driven over to the home of a friend who was near completion on their own home. We wanted to see some of the tile work they had done so we could decide if we wanted to do something similar.
The visit was supposed to be quick so we had left the diesel truck running with our 3 kids in the back seat. Syveah was only 5, Amaya 2 and Trey was year old. All of them were nice and snug in their car seats. My wife and went inside and were in for about 5 minutes. In the middle of a design conversation with our friend we heard a loud crash outside. It appeared to come from the garage.
We quickly ran up the stairs from the basement that led directly into the garage. There inside the garage was our truck. Behind the wheel was Amaya. In the back we could hear Syveah freaking out. Just in front of the truck, pinned between the stairwell and the bumper, was a brand new oven that had just been delivered for installation that day. Underneath the truck was a brand new counter-top range that had a nice tire track across it.
Somehow, Amaya had managed to get out of her car seat, climb into the front of the cab, and drop the gearshift into gear. Even without using a gas pedal, the diesel engine had no problem propelling them forward. Thankfully she was able to steer it right through the garage opening missing the structure completely. The counter top range must have slowed them down and the oven stopped them cold.
Amaya was not speaking yet at 2 years old. (Yes that has changed drastically). She was giving us a complete dramatization of what had happened from the opening of her car seat, to the hopping into the front, to the playing with the steering wheel, to the shifting of the gear lever.
Sounds hilarious, right? Well, I was not amused. I instantly thought it was going to cost me everything we had saved for our own down payment. However, the owner of the house thought it was very funny. He even high-fived Amaya and asked her if she liked driving Daddy’s truck. While he was laughing I was very short with him. I said “There is nothing funny about it!”
He smiled and said, “Hey, that’s what insurance is for, right?”
That did lessen the blow a little but I still had to walk away and fume by myself.
After we got home, I called All-State Insurance and talked to my long-time agent, Dave Despain. I explained what had happened. He too began to laugh and I started to fume again. Then he said something that made me stop. “Well, Horace, that’s why we insure your vehicle. No matter who is driving it!”
I admit it is funny now. I can still picture Amaya’s frantic way of telling us what happened. Wish we had a good video device back then. It would be classic YouTube!
This event came back to me when Amaya backed our suburban out of a school parking lot a couple of days ago. She is still practicing to get her license. As she backed out, Trina told her to stop….5 or 6 times! After not stopping during any of the 6 requests, she had placed a nice deep scratch in the side of the vehicle. It’s only about 6ft long. About 1 foot for every time Trina yelled stop! No big deal!
Dave Despain has retired now. Don’t know if I would call him anyway. Is it worth the deductible?
Scoop is, Amaya driving = Horace's empty wallet!
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