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It was Saturday, June 23rd, and we were driving back to Colorado from beautiful Boise, Idaho where my husband, daughter and I had spent the last week exploring while our son was participating in a Civil Air Patrol encampment. Our goal for the day was to make it to Antelope Island State Park so all of us could see, touch, and possibly wade in The Great Salt Lake.
Both kids had been begging to go to The Great Salt Lake since they first spotted the lake on the map years ago. And both Justin and I were also curious, although I have to admit that I had some minor reservations after reading about biting sand flies and mosquitoes. But in Justin and I's opinion, the experience of seeing the Great Salt Lake with the kids would be worth it, especially because I always carry plenty of bug spray in the center console of our truck.
And so, after several hours of driving, we exited I-15 and began to drive through Clearfield, UT on route to Antelope Island Park. All of us were itching for a break, itching to see The Great Salt Lake, BUT, unfortunately, the universe had other plans.
We weren't a mile off the interstate when we were driving through an intersection with a green light. Suddenly, a guy began making a left turn right into the side of our truck. Justin swerved as much as possible to try and avoid the crash without running into any other cars and, for a split second, we both thought a crash had been avoided, but alas...
CRASH! CRUNCH! DAMN!
We signaled for the guy to pull into Beto's Mexican restaurant, which was just a few feet away from the crash. As soon as Justin moved the truck, we knew something was off with the front end.
Double DAMN!
We parked, taking up three parking spots, and the guy dutifully pulled into the parking lot nearby. He leapt out of his car and immediately asked if everyone was okay. I asked him the same question. Fortunately, we were all fine. It was just a little bump.
He apologized profusely and admitted that the crash was his fault and he asked again if everyone was okay. Yes, we were all okay, I reassured him. He said he somehow thought we were in the turn lane and by the time he realized we weren't, he jammed the brakes, locked them up and... CRASH!
"It's okay," I told him. "It happens."
Justin and I really appreciated his honesty, but we wondered if it would hold once the police arrived. To make things less awkward for everyone involved, I introduced myself, Justin and the kids to the guy and he introduced himself to us.
He was super nice. I then called our insurance company while Justin called the police, and then all of us we went about surveying the damage to both of the vehicles and exchanging insurance information.
Our truck's front tire was flat, and the front fender and front bumper had sustained some damage. It didn't look too bad... The entire front bumper of the at-fault driver's car had been nearly torn off and one of his headlights were broken. His car, a Subaru WRX, looked awful, but it, too, was mostly cosmetic.
The driver said the car was his commuter and he fixed cars, and he wasn't worried about it. It was still drivable. I still felt bad as he loaded the bumper into the trunk of his car. Justin and I had no doubt he'd have his car fixed in a couple of days, but even so it would definitely be a hassle.
THE POLICE ARRIVE
Two Clearfield Police officers quickly arrived on scene and by quickly, I mean about two minutes after my husband placed the call. As soon as the first officer stepped out of his car, the Subaru's driver promptly announced, "This is my fault."
Wow, Justin and I thought, this guy is the real deal and has some serious integrity. While the officers were writing the report, Justin and I both thanked the guy numerous times for being so honest and owning up to his mistake. We had the kids with us, and this guy was setting a great example for them, heck for all of us. I told the guy that we all make mistakes and not to worry about it. Everyone was okay and that's what mattered.
He appreciated that we were nice and understanding and said a lot of people wouldn't have been so kind. He also said Utah wasn't a very tolerant state for people like him. He was Hispanic and confessed that racism is rampant in Utah. That broke my heart.
While Justin dealt with the police, the kids and I set out to change the tire. Fortunately, we had a full-size spare with us. We hadn't gotten everything out when my daughter said she had to use the restroom, so I took her inside and realized this was a hardcore Mexican restaurant and the woman I first encountered didn't speak English. Not only that, but there weren't any restrooms visible inside.
No problem. Calling upon my one semester of Spanish way back in college and many Spani-Franco-Italiano-English (I'm a language nerd) conversations I'd had with our Hispanic neighbors when we lived in a more diverse city, I asked in Spanish for the women's restroom. The woman smiled, handed me the key, and pointed outside and to the left. I thanked her in Spanish. When we were done, I returned the key, smiled, and thanked the woman running the cash register in Spanish.
LAUGHS WITH THE POLICE OFFICER AND DRIVER
When the police were done, the driver, the lead police officer and I had a nice chat, and we even shared a few laughs. I told the driver and the officer that we were on our way to see The Great Salt Lake and both the officer and the guy who hit us simultaneously said, "Ohh, hope you have a lot of bug spray."
We all laughed, and I thought maybe this crash was the universe's way of sparing us from being attacked by a plethora of nasty, biting insects. We then chatted about random things. The officer said he had just been to Red Rocks to see an amazing concert and that he loves Colorado. He also thanked the Subaru driver for being so honest.
The driver replied, "What choice did I have. I was at fault. There were probably at least 10 people who saw I was at fault, so why lie about it?"
The officer smiled and replied, "You'd be surprised. People lie to my face all day long, every day."
I knew that was the case. In fact, I had witnessed people lying to the police before, but it was still heartbreaking to hear those words come from the officer. Here he was, another super nice guy who was literally sworn to serve and protect.
Every day, this officer CHOOSES to risk his life and work a job people don't respect, knowing that people will hate him and his co-workers mostly because these people are angry about getting caught breaking the law, and they lack the integrity and courage to take responsibility for their actions. For so many people, it's easier to pass the buck, to blame someone else than it is to stand up and proclaim, "Hey, you know what, I screwed up. I made a mistake." It's sad, really sad.
Anyway, the conversation continued, and we discussed what our options were should the truck's front-end damage be more than just a popped tire. The officer warned us not to get a hotel along the street we were on because, "we'd most certainly be offered drugs and see things we didn't want to see."
Good to know. He then gave us the name and directions to a safer hotel, a bit farther away, in case things didn't work out with the truck. Thank you, very much!
The police left. The guy who ran into us asked if we needed anything. We assured him we'd be fine. The truck, after all, just needed a tire change and we had the tools to make that happen... Famous last words. HAHAHA! JINX!
JINXED!
It was ROASTING outside. Triple-digit roasting and we were parked in the sun on asphalt. Fortunately, there was a bit of shade, but not where we needed it the most, which was by the driver's side tire. In any event, we got to work changing the tire. I showed my kids how to loosen the lug nuts and then let them take turns twisting the jack.
Since my back is a mess, my husband said to leave the tire on the truck for him to take off. He didn't want me aggravating the herniated discs in my spine. So once the lug nuts were off, Justin went to work removing the tire and my daughter helped me lower the spare from beneath the truck.
It was a bit tricky with a truck full of suitcases and me not remembering exactly how to lower the stupid thing. Fortunately, there were instructions. Let's just say that after a bit of a struggle, I should have read them sooner... It's not like you access a spare to change a tire every day and it's not like your brain works the most efficiently when it's sizzling like a fried egg in a skillet full of bacon grease.
Anyway, my daughter and I got the spare tire ready to go, but Justin couldn't get the tire off of the truck. He was kicking and pulling and had recruited our son to kick and pull on the tire as well. My daughter and I then joined in. We kicked and pulled on the tire, but none of us could get it to budge from the truck. Justin and I pulled together, used the tire iron to try and pry the tire off, but...
The tire was STUCK! Totally seized on the truck.
CRAP! Had this crash done more damage than we thought?
For the next 2.5 hours, we worked nonstop to get the tire off of the truck. We didn't have a sledgehammer, or any tools (let's just say they'd been forgotten in the rush to get out of the house). We pried, we kicked. I looked for large rocks or anything we could use to hit the tire with, but the only rocks around were small, white river rocks. I even scanned up and down the street for a hardware store or an open automotive store. There was an auto shop down the street, but it was already closed for the night. DAMN!
And so, while Justin took a breather, I screwed three of the lug nuts on in different patterns hoping to break the tire free. I didn't realize that Justin had already tried the same thing.
Several people, a restaurant worker, friends of the restaurant workers, came up and asked if they could help. One of the restaurant workers translated for a guy who only spoke Spanish. He thought we just had a flat tire and offered to let us use his portable air pump.
We thanked him profusely and explained (in English, my Spanish isn't that good), that we'd been in a crash and showed him the hole in the tire. He, like everyone who had stopped to ask if they could help, took his shot at kicking the tire and trying to pull it off, but again, it was STUCK! Unfortunately, he didn't have any tools with him, so he wished us the best and went on his way.
Dusty sweat was pouring off of Justin, the kids and I and frustration was setting in. The whole thing was so stupid. We kept wondering why we couldn't accomplish a simple tire change. Our knees, hands, arms, hair, and shirts were stained black and full of dirt from kneeling on the pavement and laying beneath the truck.
EPIC FAIL NUMERO UNO: PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE
We were HOT and weighing our options. At this point, I realized it was time to move to plan B. I called our insurance company, Progressive, to see if we could get some roadside assistance in changing the tire. After all, they did ask if we needed a tow when we first called about the crash.
*Note, this isn't the verbatim conversation, it's just the gist. It's not like I was recording it, but I know Progressive was.
"It doesn't appear you have roadside assistance on your policy," the female rep stated.
"No, we have roadside assistance through Good Sam, but since the crash wasn't our fault, can't you bill it to the at-fault driver's policy?"
"No."
"So, you can't send a tow truck out to help us change the tire?" I asked.
"No, if we send a tow truck, they'll tow your truck to a storage yard until Monday because all of the shops are closed for the weekend."
"Even if we just need help changing a tire?"
"Yes."
I bit my tongue and attempted to remain calm despite the extreme heat, dehydration, and hangries beginning to hijack my brain.
"Okay, so does that mean we can get a rental car? I mean we have all of our stuff in the truck, and we absolutely won't leave our truck with our stuff in a storage lot for two nights."
"Well, we contract through Enterprise Rent-a-Car and they close at noon on Saturday."
"So, let me get this straight. My husband and I have two kids. We're stranded in Clearfield, UT in 100+ degree heat, in a place we were told by a police officer not to get a hotel in, and our only option is to have our truck with all of our stuff inside of it, including computer stuff, towed to a storage yard and then what...camp out in the parking lot until Monday when Enterprise opens?"
Silence, then, "I'm really sorry."
It was everything I could do to keep from going ballistic. After how much we pay for car insurance, this was the best Progressive could do, which was absolutely nothing!!!
"Okay, then," I said, "you know what? I'll just call Good Sam for roadside assistance."
"Good luck," she said.
"Wait, before you go," I said, "I have one more question. What happens if we do have to get a hotel room until the truck is fixed. Can we submit the receipt for reimbursement?"
"Well, let me see. It doesn't look like you have trip interruption coverage on your policy."
"But shouldn't that come from the at-fault driver's policy?"
"No, you'd need it on your policy."
Oh, for bleep's sake..."Okay, thanks. You've been very helpful."
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Seriously??? "No, thanks."
"Okay, thank you for calling Progressive. Please let us know if you need us."
I hung up and felt like I was losing my mind. I told Justin we needed to call Good Sam because Progressive was ZERO help, and I promptly handed him the phone. I knew better than to try and have a constructive conversation at the moment. I needed a minute.
I noticed that the kids and Justin were showing signs of heat exhaustion. They were looking extremely over-heated, and moods were rapidly on the decline. Faces were bright red, bodies were drenched with sweat. All of the water in the truck was hot. My poor daughter was having a major anxiety attack from the crash and my son was lethargic and couldn't focus on anything, nonetheless helping, so I made a split-second decision.
"Let's go inside and get a soda."
And so that's what we did. We went inside and I ordered a LARGE COKE for all of us to split. This time, my daughter asked me how to ask for the bathroom keys in Spanish, so I told her. The staff at the restaurant was delighted and promptly gave us the keys. We all used the bathroom, washed hands and air dried them because there were no paper towels.
EPIC FAIL NUMERO DOS: GOOD SAM ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE
The kids and I took a few sips of the ice-cold Coke, and it was amazing. We don't drink soda, so it was quite a treat, and the icy, sugary, syrupy liquid instantly reinvigorated the three of us. We took the cup over to Justin, who was furious. Sweat was dripping from his dusty face onto the hood of the truck as he leaned between the driver's side door and the truck's frame, attempting to read the VIN number tag located beneath the windshield.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"They can't find our Good Sam number," he growled.
"You did renew it, right?"
"Yeah, I renewed it! Well, I'm pretty sure I did. I think I did, but now I'm doubting myself."
I took the phone from him. He'd been trying to get help from the moron on the other end for the last 20 minutes. Enough was enough. *Again, the conversation is not verbatim. I wasn't recording it, but Good Sam certainly was.
"Hi, I'm Amy Giaquinto. My husband and I are long-time customers of Good Sam and we're out here in 100+ degree heat with two kids and my husband's been on the phone with you for over 20 minutes and so I'm taking over. He tells me you still can't find our account."
"Um, no Ma'am," the man with the foreign accent said, clearly taken aback.
"May I please speak with your supervisor?"
"Yes, Ma'am, if that's what you'd like."
"Yes, that's what I'd like."
And so, the guy transferred me to his supervisor who, in less than 10 seconds had found our account.
After explaining my frustration about the previous rep not being able to find our account, and cutting off this guy's excuse for the issue, I told him we were involved in a crash and needed roadside assistance to help change a tire that was stuck on the truck. We just needed a tow truck driver to help us get the tire off, preferably someone with a heavy tool that they could use to smack the tire and break it free.
"Oh, unfortunately we don't know if our tow truck drivers carry tools."
WHAAAAAAAATTT???
"Huh..." I replied. "Well, I'm sure someone whose job is to provide roadside assistance will certainly have tools."
"We can tow you to a tire shop."
"The tire shops are all closed. All I need is someone who can come and help us change the tire. Isn't that what roadside assistance is for?"
"Can I get the make and model of your vehicle?"
"For roadside assistance?"
"For a tow."
"I don't need a tow. I only need roadside assistance, someone to come and help us change our tire."
"Well, I'm afraid we won't be able to help you with that, so can I get the make and model of your vehicle for a tow?"
At this point, it's everything I can do not to blow a gasket.
I slowed down and overenunciated each word, "I'm afraid you're not understanding me. I don't need a tow. I'm looking for roadside assistance to help change a tire."
"You don't want a tow?"
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
"No! If I need a tow, I'll call my insurance company."
When he asked once again if I was sure I didn't want a tow, I just hung up. It was clear we weren't going to get any help from Good Sam. Again, I wondered what the hell were we paying for if they refused to dispatch the roadside assistance we were paying for when we needed it.
TRUE HEROES: THE RETIRED VETERAN AND MAINTENANCE WORKER
Struggling to calm my thoughts and think rationally about how we were going to solve this problem, I crawled out of the sweltering hot truck. Two men were with Justin helping him with the tire. They both kicked the tire, worked together to try and pry the tire off with their hands, then with tire iron before they concluded the same thing we had concluded. The tire was seized onto the truck.
This time, though, rather than just leave, a retired Airforce veteran (Vietnam, Desert Storm, and Afghanistan), said he lived close and would run home and grab a sledgehammer and a block of wood. I could have hugged the guy right then and there!
The second man, who was the maintenance worker at the restaurant, had come to see if he could help fix the malfunctioning AC (on his day off and without any tools). He said there had to be something around we could use to knock the tire off of the truck. I said I couldn't find any rocks or anything big to hit the tire with. He said he'd see what he could find, and then he disappeared on a scavenger hunt.
A few minutes later, the maintenance guy returned with something that looked like concrete garden edging, the kind with several cylinders stuck together with concrete, and a flattened cardboard box.
Justin held the cardboard box on the top of the truck's rim to protect the rim while the guy swung the concrete thingy hard, slamming it into the cardboard on the rim. He did this a couple of times before the tire FINALLY popped free.
All of us jumped for joy! We were so, incredibly grateful for his help. I tried to offer him $20, but he wouldn't take it. I tried to buy him a meal, but he refused. I did ask him if I could give him a hug and he agreed, so I gave him a sideways hug. He had saved the day!
Not two minutes later, the veteran returned with the sledgehammer and a piece of wood. I offered him some cash or a meal and he, too, refused. We chatted about his time in the service and how glad we were to have met him and the maintenance man. He seemed genuinely glad to have met and shared his story with us, too.
My heart was swelling with gratitude. I was so grateful for my kids to see that there really are people in this world who have incredible hearts and souls. I was so grateful for them to see that when you have a problem, it's often the wonderful people around you who can help solve that problem.
I felt so fortunate that although we'd been in a crash, nobody was hurt and the guy who hit us had been honest. I felt fortunate that we had crashed in a place (a crappy part of town by most people's standards) where the people were kind and helpful, handy and responsible, reliable, courageous and full of integrity; a place where people still used their brains to solve problems and fix things, a place where people were willing to go out of their way to help total strangers.
We eventually said goodbye to the veteran and the maintenance guy went back to work on the restaurant AC, trying to save the workers inside from the terrible heat. As he was working, he brought out a hose and asked if the kids wanted to be sprayed. They did so he made it rain, spraying them and us, much to our delight. The cool water was so refreshing!
We successfully got the spare tire on, secured the flat tire beneath the truck, washed up in the bathrooms using toilet paper, returned the bathroom keys, thanked the restaurant staff in Spanish, for letting us bug them for the bathroom keys so many times, and for being so patient with us taking up so many parking spots for so long. They asked if the truck was fixed and I said yes, then announced:
FINALAMENTE VAMOS!
Everyone cheered and wished us the best of luck and safe travels (in Spanish). I may not have understood every word that was said, but it didn't matter. I felt like in that short time, we had become like family.
In a time when the media keeps telling us how divided we are as a country, in a time when racism and sexism are rampant, it's heartwarming to have experienced the selfless, totally nonjudgmental kindness from a very diverse group of strangers, the majority of whom were fighting a daily battle against some form of discrimination.
The crash was a great reminder that love, peace, help, honesty, integrity, and kindness truly are everywhere you look as long as you open your heart and let people in.
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