OOPS, MY FAULT! BUT PLEASE DON'T CALL THE COPS
By Jackie Peterson

We’ve all had the experience of losing concentration at the wrong moment and having a simple everyday action become a disaster. I lost my concentration while backing into a parking space — a roomy one at that — in front of the Central Camionera bus station. Clink, clank, crunch! The sound of falling metal and breaking glass ensued. My rear bumper had plowed into the front headlight assembly of the guy behind me. And was he furious! He dashed out of the store he was in and started expressing his indignity in a voice that could be heard two blocks away. Meanwhile, he was guarding the part of the broken headlight that had fallen into the street so it would not be moved. He started shouting about how he was going to call Transito, and he warned me in threatening tones not to leave the scene. I kept telling him to calm down, I had insurance that would cover the damages. He stalked off to find a phone, and while he was gone I looked in the glove compartment for my insurance papers. My heart sank. I found only the policy that had expired in 2001, not the renewal for 2002. Only later did I remember that last year I had renewed via Internet, using my credit card, and did not have written confirmation of the insurance in hand! So of course the local agent for Comercial Americana would not take my word that indeed I was insured until he confirmed that fact with the carrier in San Diego. It was just my luck that the entire staff of that agency was out to lunch at the time the local agent was trying to contact them. Had I known the complications that would ensue when Transito got there, I would have given the irate driver my wristwatch and any sort of compensation he demanded. Anything but undergoing the tender mercies of Transito! Here’s a timetable of what happened: 2:45 — Accident occurs. 3:15 — Two Transito agents arrive. 3:20 — Insurance agent arrives. 3:25 — I can’t take my vehicle home; find pulmonia to go there and look for insurance papers; find only renewal for 2001, not 2002. 3:55 — I return to scene with what papers I have; two stern-looking new Transito agents arrive to replace the original pair; it’s start of a new shift. Sterner of the two “cuicos” gets my keys and he drives. 4:15 — We arrive at the Juarez police station; both my vehicle and other driver’s vehicle are parked in police impoundment yard; we’re directed to an office where one officer with a pencil and a ruler is drawing some sort of form on a sheet of blank paper. 4:45 — We’re taken to another building and past cells with locked up prisoners to a dispensary where a woman in a lab

 coat takes my blood pressure, then that of the other driver (his is high). 5:15 — By now, the other driver and I have become somewhat friendly. His name is Henry, his wife is Araceli. He’s beginning to realize he’s made a mistake by getting Transito involved in this. But my insurance guy has disappeared, saying he has to confirm that my policy is valid. 5:20 — Back in original office, Stern Officer is insisting I should have some sort of permiso to be driving my vehicle in Mazatlan; I show him my FM-2 but he says I need some other kind of permiso I don’t have. 5:30 — People seem busy filling out papers. 5:45 — We’re ushered to another office where an abogado is dictating to a secretary at her computer; some people involved in an auto- motorcycle accident are telling him their story. Motorcyclist has hand in a bandage. 6:05 — Insurance agent returns with news that my policy is OK, but I have to wait because I’m going to be cited for “infracciones.” Apparently, Henry also has to wait until this is settled. 6:20 — The abogado says he has to take care of three other cases before he gets to mine. There’s lots of paper shuffling going on. 6:40 — We’re led to another office (motorcycle group is ahead of us) where we stand while the insurance adjuster gets called away. 7:10 — We’re still waiting for the secretary in this new office to prepare a convenio. She has a computer, but she types with only two fingers. 7:30 — Still waiting for Miss Two Fingers, who says she needs “un poquito mas tiempo.” (What she needs is typing lessons.) 7:40 — Lourdes, an old friend of mine who works at the Juarez station, comes in and says she’ll try to find out what’s holding things up. She explains that Two Fingers is a new employee, “only four months on the job.” 8:15 — Henry and I sign the convenio; then Two Fingers makes copies and takes them somewhere for some big shot to sign. By now Henry and I are old friends; he invites me out to the site where he and Araceli are building their new home (and living in part of it). 8:45 — The insurance man tells Henry where to take his car to be repaired; he says I have two infracciones but I don’t understand what either of them are. It amounts to 854 pesos in fines, including 44 pesos for “storage” in the impoundment lot, but he gets me a discount. Final bill is 701 pesos (thank the Almighty I have enough with me to pay it). 9:15 — Back to Two Fingers with the paid receipts. She fills out release forms for our respective vehicles, and Henry and I shake hands. 9:30 — On to impoundment lot, where other vehicles now block our cars. We turn over the releases, the attendant maneuvers cars around, and out the gate we go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Email Us Your Comments or Suggestions
Copyright 1999
Mazatlan's Pacific Pearl
All Rights Reserved