It had been two months since my arrival in the US and I had just started my first job. My savings had been severely depleted by now and I was desperate for my first paycheck. So much so that I had to request my roommate to cover the next month’s rent in case I did not receive the paycheck soon.
It was a Saturday and I had planned to drive to my car’s rental agency office to make a change to my car insurance coverage to reduce it from full coverage to liability only. Full coverage covered everything in case of an accident, but it was expensive, and I could not afford it anymore. Moreover, I had been driving for a few weeks now and felt more confident about my driving.
I picked up my mail from the mailbox and dropped them on the passenger seat beside me as I drove to the agency’s office. On the way, I noticed that one of the mails was my paycheck. They had sent a physical check since the ACH direct deposit was still not active yet.
“Hurray! My first paycheck! I’m not broke anymore!” I felt tremendous relief and an adrenaline rush in my body with the thought.
I was so excited that I did not even wait to reach the destination and tried opening the envelope with one hand while driving with another.
“1800$!!!” I almost howled when I read the amount on the check. “That’s almost 80000 Rupees in 2 weeks! That’s three times I would have made in India” I was ecstatic and lost in the moment as I stared at the check for a time far more than I should have…at least not while I was driving.
“Bang!” My car came to a halt with a loud thud, the check slipped off my hand flying in the air.
I had failed to notice that a traffic light had turned red and the Lexus SUV ahead of me had slowed down to stop. I must have slammed my Kia into Lexus at about 30mph.
“God no! Not again, please! I had just come out of bankruptcy…almost! Don’t take away this paycheck from me!” I panicked as the thought of paying for the damage flashed in my head.
“Is this guy going to beat me into a pulp for bumping into his Lexus?” That would be extremely embarrassing. I have never been beaten up in public before!” I was petrified by the next thought as I snapped back into reality.
But as it turned out, the Gods were happy with me that day. My anxiety subsided a bit, if not completely erased when I saw an Indian lady stepping out of the Lexus.
“Thank God for sparing me the bashing. I won’t be beaten after all,” I felt relieved “and she is one of us!”
The lady was neatly dressed and wore black sunglasses. I think they were Ray-Ban glasses. Without even caring to evaluate the damage to her SUV, she rushed up to me, visibly anxious.
“Oh, My God. I am so sorry! Are you okay?” She inquired about my well-being.
“Wait…what? I am the one who slammed my shitty car into her expensive Lexus, and she is sorry about it? What the hell?” I thought as I put a fake smile on my face like an idiot. I did not know what other expression to wear on my face at that time.
“Yes, I am fine. I am so sorry, I failed to notice the red light, and when I did, it was too late to hit the brakes.” I replied still smiling like an idiot for God knows why.
“Is it too bad?” I inquired about the damage to her SUV to figure out how much I might have to shell out of my pocket.
“Don’t even worry about that. That’s not important. What’s more important is to make sure that no one is hurt.” She said and went back to assess the damage to her car.
There was only a minor dent to the rear bumper of her SUV while my car’s front hood had mangled like scrambled eggs (or a wrinkled shirt)! The contrast of the damage was bizarre. It was a miracle that my car’s engine was still functioning.
Had this accident been in India, there was a high chance I would have landed in the hospital, not only because of the accident (we hate seatbelts in India, remember?) but also with the punches I would be offered for my mistake, in addition to ear-bleeding verbal abuse.
Both of us pulled over our cars by the curb and 911 was called customarily. When the cops arrived, they checked our licenses and asked us to exchange our insurance details. While her license looked like a license (a plastic card similar to a credit card), mine looked like a case of forgery (a laminated folded paper). Honestly, it looked embarrassing.
“What kind of license is that?” One of the cops asked when he looked at my license.
“It’s an Indian driver’s license.” I replied.
“Is it even recognized here?” He seemed stumped.
“Oh yes. I’m allowed to drive up to six months before I must take a US license.” I replied pretending to be confident but in reality, I was skeptical of what I just made up.
“Hmm…” He lifted his eyes from my license, looked at me, then looked at the license again.
“You better get a California license, son.” He said as he handed over the license back to me, still confused.
“Indeed Sir, very soon indeed.” I replied with a smile.
As soon as everyone left and I was still deciding to tow the car or drive it up to the rental agency, it struck me.
“I was on my way to lowering the insurance coverage to cover only third-party damage! And here I was with almost no major damage to the third party and my car is almost totaled. What a stroke of luck!”
I decided to take a chance to drive up to the rental agency expecting a major chunk of my paycheck to be taken away. I was anxious when the rental guy was inspecting the damage.
“Hmm…it needs major repair. Don’t worry, your full coverage covers the damages. We’ll take care of it.” He said and every word he uttered was ambrosial.
“So, I don’t need to pay anything?” I asked softly.
“Nope. Let me arrange a replacement car for you now. I think I may have a Pontiac Sunfire ready.” He confirmed.
I was in seventh heaven. I had just avoided a total financial breakdown. I picked up the car keys and revved up the engine as I cruised away in bliss.
