Elaine and David were further along the road, on the parallel, hundred of yards below me where the switchback bent round. The road was filled with traffic. They were at a stop waiting for the lights to turn.
Read moreFrom my car above (I was in the Mazda) I watched them set off only for the BMW in front to slam on the brakes. Elaine had to brake hard, so that their black Highlander was only inches from the BMW. The car behind them was a monster truck. It also slammed on the brakes. The monster truck was raised high because of its monster wheels, and its bonnet covered the back of the Highlander when it came to a halt.
The BMW in front set off once more. And before Elaine could start the car up, the monster truck set off. At first it tried to round them on the inside but when that was not possible it drove over the Highlander, climbed the roof and came down on the other side, rolling over the Highlander’s bonnet before it pulled away.
I looked down with horror, but the Highlander did not crumple under the weight of the truck.
At the loss adjusters I tried to explain what happened but really I needed more evidence.
‘I got the number of the truck,’ said David. He held out the paper plate that he had used to write the license number on. I guessed the insurance company had tracked the address of the truck’s owners after they had driven off without stopping. But he hadn’t taken pictures so he could only explain the damage.
‘The frame of the car was cracked.’ I’d seen how the frame had split under the weight of the monster truck, but it would difficult to associate the damage with the action of the truck.
The loss adjuster stood behind a clean light brown counter in his office as I tried to pitch in that we did not have a photograph. The owners of the truck were with us. I thought they were rednecks. They stood behind us awaiting their turn to explain.
‘I was not there, but I could see from my car which was higher on the series of switchbacks,’ I said.
I tried to describe where the accident had happened. It was on Chain Bridge Road, but I couldn’t be sure. After I spoke, the rednecks approached the counter.
‘Do you have the green blanket,’ the loss adjuster asked the younger man.
He must have been around twenty-five. The man handed the loss adjuster a smaller green placemat the color of olive. I assumed it belonged to a dining set.
The loss adjuster was taking bribes.
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