When hassles make you happy

I really should be sleeping right now, because I have to get up tomorrow and go to Longview. But I want to tell this story, so here I go.

The residential streets in Seattle are narrow, but everyone parks their cars on both sides of them anyway. This makes two-way traffic nearly impossible. Early in November, Grace was driving down one such street when a car approached from the opposite direction. She moved over as far as she could without scraping against the parked cars. Except for one problem. She did scrape against a parked car. Her mirror rubbed along the shiny side of a late model SUV.

Grace got out of her car and left a note on the windshield with her name, her phone number, and an apology. A woman called her later that day, said she thought it was only rubbed, not scratched, and said her husband would look at it and they’d call again. She thanked Grace for her honesty. “Not many people would do that,” she said.

The husband called later and agreed with his wife in thinking the mark could be buffed out. He, too, complimented Grace on her handling of the situation. “Not many people would do that.”

Fast forward to this week. Grace e-mailed me (first time I heard about any of this) because the couple had gotten an estimate and wanted her insurance information. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. I wrote her back and said she had done the right thing in leaving the note and, yes, give them the insurance information, and that she would probably need to provide a statement to the insurance company.

I heard back from Grace later that day. The husband had called her with the estimate. $1500.00. Nice buff job! He told Grace it was frustrating because the car was new and had cost $57,000.00. Grace commented (to me, not him) that she found it amusing he told her the price of his car, and maybe he should be more concerned about spending his money on more important things than a ridiculously frivolous vehicle. I’m glad she kept that comment to herself. She also told me she’d spoken with our local insurance office (the woman was very nice and made her miss Texas people), and they would be calling here because the policy is in George’s and my name.

The representative of the parent company called me yesterday. She asked for the details of the incident, though all I could tell her was what Grace had told me. When I said, “She left a note with her name, phone number, and an apology,” the woman laughed and said, “She left an apology?”

“That’s what she told me,” I said.

“You did something right with that kid,” she said, obviously impressed.

Grace feels bad that our insurance may go up. I feel blessed and honored to have a daughter with integrity. What’s a higher premium when it means your daughter is priceless?