A Cautionary Tale

I've been blessed to own a bevy of exotic cars over the years. However, never, until the event discussed herein, have I found myself in harm's way while driving. While my past experience would suggest that the incident was an anomoly, it has certainly given me pause for thought. It's now been about 8 months since it happened. I've reached the point where it's less painful than it is interesting, and finding myself with a few quiet minutes, I thought I'd share the experience for the good of the brotherhood, or at least for your entertainment.

I special ordered my Ferrari 458. After what seemed to be an eternal wait, it arrived looking more spectacular than I could have imagined. There is simply no experience like taking delivery of new Ferrari, especially after painstakingly selecting the color combination and options. Because it landed in the late winter, I decided to transport the 458 down to a warmer climate to enjoy it while the new was still dripping off of it. I had owned the car for about a week when I invited my best car buddy for a sunny weekend drive. We were having a great time, enjoying the sunny desert day, keeping to ourselves and getting familiar with the car through a combination of urban and highway driving. We stopped in town for a burger and a soda, then made our way through stop and go traffic back toward the freeway.

As we were driving from signal to signal, we had the windows down. I heard yelling on my right, and we both looked in the direction of the noise. It was a young gentleman in a scruffy RX8 with a female companion. They were in the lane next to us. He was giving us the thumbs up, smiling, hollering, saying something that appeared to be positive. This, of course, is not the slightest bit unusual for anyone who has ever driven an exotic. We gave the obligatory wave of acknowledgement, returned the smiles; the same basic routine. At this point, the presumption would be that the admirer would go on about his business after the exchange of pleasantries. However, such was not to be the case...

We stopped at the next red light, and our admirer was still next to us. With the cars stopped in traffic, we could now easily hear his manic voice. "That is the most f#$$***& beautiful thing I have ever seen. It's f#$$%&* incredible. I can't believe it" He went on and on. This was not normal. I tried to smile and nod in acknowledgment. Between the colorful language and the somewhat aggressive delivery of the compliments, my bud and I both began to feel uncomfortable. We were stuck next to the guy in traffic, but I immediately started looking for a way out and away. The light turned green, and despite the obvious temptation, there was no way I was going to try to speed off to lose the guy; given his sketchy behavior, that seemed to have disaster written all over it. So, we just sort of crept along, at probably 5 mph below the speed limit, hoping he would be on his way. Our admirer stayed next to us, lurching forward and back, goosing the throttle, in the old school drag race taunt. My buddy and I exchanged a worried glance and tried steadfastly to ignore the surging RX8. He stayed with us as we approached the freeway onramp.

The ramp was a tandem-lane left turn. I was on the inside lane, the RX8 on the outside. I began to make the turn, going quite slowly, probably no more than 10 mph. Again, I felt the urge to simply nail the throttle and be gone. I resisted for the same reason as before. With the widows still down, I was relieved to note the RX8 recede in my peripheral vision.

Then I heard it; the engine note of the RX8 suddenly screamed as if the driver had floored the throttle. For an instant, I thought I would see him shoot past me in the outside lane and be gone. Luck, however, was not on my side. The next sound we heard was the screetch of tires as the RX8 went into wild oversteer. The driver got sideways, overcorrected, and speared us right in the side, just behind the passenger side door. The sickening sound of the impact is something that I will never be able to forget. The unfortunate driver had foolishly goosed the throttle while in mid turn and lost control. We were the innocent victims of his temporary insanity.

I immediately pulled to the side of the ramp. I was in mind numbing shock. My friend, who thankfully was completely uninjured, still had his wits about him and called to report the incident. The driver of the RX8, who was now stopped sideways on the ramp, managed to get his car to the shoulder in front of us. He exited the car and with his head in his hands, and bagan to profusely apologize. He inexplicably approached me as if he were going to hug me, but my buddy intervened and pulled him aside. I don't remember much about this part, but I do remember looking at the guy and asking "why would you do that?" A couple of very kind motorists who had witnessed the low speed circus stopped and offered to be witnesses to the event. One was a middle aged lady who commented that she has been admiring the 458 in traffic and couldn't believe her eyes when the Mazda fishtailed and hit us. She stayed with us until the Highway Patrol arrived and gave her statement. The Officer took our statements, and cited the RX8 driver. The Patrolman was sympathetic to our plight was very efficient and helpful.

We examined the 458. The damage was ugly, and it made my heart sink. The good news, of course, was that the there were no injuries. Moreover, the 458 was still completely drivable.

We commenced our sad journey back to the garage in the wounded, brand new 458. I was speechless and completely heartsick. It wasn't so much the damage as it was the trauma of having waited with such anticipation for the car to arrive, only to have the whole thing go in the crapper because of the stupidity of someone else. I'm not accustomed to being a victim, and I will tell you that I hate it! I operate under the persistent delusion that I can control everything if I just try hard enough, but the one thing you can never control is the behavior of a stranger. In this case, I thank heaven that it was only a car. And yes, in the end, it is only a car. First world problems and all that.

The consequences of the five seconds of foolishness were complex and tedious. After consulting with my wonderful dealer, we decided to send the car to Premier Motorsport in Carson, California for repair. They are a world class Ferrari repair facility. To say that I am a perfectionist would be a gross understatement, and after consulting with Dave and Roger at Premier, I was convinced that they were the right shop for me. They proved to be awesome folks to deal with and their reputation is well earned and deserved. The car seemed to be there for an eternity, but they were actually very efficient and in hindsight, they got that car done more quickly than I could have hoped for otherwise.

Premier gave us good news after the initial damage assessment: while the injury was certainly ugly, it was relatively benign. There wasn't much behind the damaged panel that was hurt in the collision. There was no structural or frame damage. The suspension and alignment of the rear corner were unaffected, and the repair was quite straightforward. They said that it appeared the impact was at very low speed, and that the RX8 was probably hard on the brakes when it punched us. They likened it to a low speed parking lot accident, sort of like an old lady backing into me going very slowly. Best of all, they decided that they could do an all-metal repair to the panel (in other words, no fillers) and have the car back to factory specs without a lot of invasive procedures.

The final result was a masterpiece of detail. They even consciously matched the slight orange peel of the surrounding panels so that the repair was completely undetectable. And believe me, coming from a pathological perfectionist like myself, that really means something. If ever I need the services of a body shop in the future, Premier is the only place I will take my car, even if it means transporting it to California. I was also grateful that the car was not a metallic color; it is so very difficult to repair and match metallic paint.

My insurance company, State Farm, was stellar. They covered all the repairs and my rental car. More importantly, they waived subrogation so that I could go after the insurance of the car that hit me for my diminished value claim, which I successfully accomplished. Please do not ask for the monetary details, as I do not feel it appropriate to share them in a public forum. Suffice it to say that I was made whole, and the car was made whole.

Right after the accident, my very kind dealer offered to order me a new 458, which I accepted. That new car should be here in a couple of months. However, after seeing the work that Premier did, I now realize that I would have been just as happy to have kept the first car and the diminished value check to boot. I will say, however, that it was nice to order another car and get to have the experience again.

I try to ask myself what I could have done differently to avoid this unfortunate series of events, but I have come to the conclusion that it was just the fickle hand of chance. If this is worst thing that ever happens to me in a car, then I will count myself lucky. First world problems indeed.

 

Next car is White exterior with black race seats and blue special stitching. Thought I'd mix it up a bit, and the 458 looks fantastic in white. At least I think so anyway.