Chasing the dream in Spain. Part 2

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Monday, August 29, 2011

I was asked by a friend if I could do them a 'favour', and being an idiot, and too polite to say no, I of course said yes. In fact, I hadn't even asked what the 'favour' was before saying yes, therefore proving myself to be a complete idiot, and demonstrating my total willingness to be mug for anyone who cared to ask anything of me. I am now considering having the word 'mug' tattooed on my forehead, but apparently, it's like the kings golden clothes thing, it's already there! I obviously can't see it when I look in the bathroom mirror in the morning, further insurmountable proof that I am an idiot! I digress, back to the favour in question. I seems I had 'volunteered' myself for getting out of bed at half past five on a Sunday morning to run a Market stall! My friend needed a few days back in the UK to see his wife, I didn't push for a reason, it's not uncommon for couples out here to develop 'issues' in their relationship. Lack of trust, idle gossip, too much time on ones hands and a combination of the heat and too much cheap alcohol. It can get a bit like a cross between Jeremy Kyle and Coronation Street on steroids and LSD. So, off I go at an ungodly time on a Sunday morning, armed with a set of van keys, some vague directions and a very rough sketch of how to set the stall up. I set off early because I don't like to be late and if you are late they give your stall to someone else, even if you have already paid for it. I arrived on site about twenty minutes earlier than my friend would have done, mistake number one. Its a bit like a giant jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces go in a set order, I was early and so the pieces that should have gone in before me were not there, total chaos broke out. Frantic phone calls went out to missing pieces of the jigsaw checking if they were on their way, and I was now blocking other pieces from slotting in due to the fact I had just dumped the van waiting my turn. The pieces turned up and I shoehorned the van into my spot, no windows in the back to see out of and the wing mirrors had to be folded in to fit the gap, so I got a little help from one of the other stallholders, I waited for the crunch before they shouted stop, but it didn't come to that. But it would later.

After several hours doing not a lot apart from wilting in the heat and drinking countless bottles of water, it came time to pack up and go home. The easy bit, just get everything back in the van, didn't matter how , just get it back in, it was miller time. An hour to set up, but less than five minutes to put away. There was a gap in the exiting vans and the throngs of people had gone, I took the gap and off I went home, biggest mistake of the day. What can possibly go wrong on a ten minute drive home? Quite a lot actually. Half way home I had to take the second exit off a roundabout, I wasn't going to get that far. I stayed in the outside lane because I wasn't going that far round it, got to the first exit, then it happened. Bang! A Scandinavian guy had just got off the motorway and was travelling round the roundabout at somewhere near the speed of light, and decided to take the exit I was just going past, he thought I was going that way too, not my intention, but I was now. Time stood still and everything went into slow motion. He hit the drivers side of the van hard enough to take me off the roundabout and round the corner with him. I don't know how, but because I wasn't travelling that fast I somehow kept the van off the crash barriers. I started coming to a stop and watched in horror as he tried to hold his Audi in the other lane and failed. No barriers on the central reservation here, only the customary very high kerbs that you get here in Spain. He hit the kerb, and the passenger side of the car lifted of the road, all that stood between him and the oncoming traffic was ten feet of grass and couple of scrawny bushes, I thought he was dead. His car had now gone ninety degrees and was running along the kerb on the drivers side doors, then ground to a stop, and amazingly dropped the right way up on what was left of it's wheels. I drifted slowly past him and stopped. Okay, get a grip I told myself. Handbrake on, hazard lights on, get out before someone runs into you. Hi-viz jacket, I need to put one on before I get out, a frantic rummage through all the junk behind the seats and I found one, put it on and got out. A rather polite Spanish man stopped to check if I was okay and expressed his opinion of the other driver verbally along with a few internationally accepted hand gestures, then drove off into the distance before I could say much else, there goes my witness. The other driver had managed to coax his car to the side of the road on the two still functioning alloy wheels that used be part of a very expensive set. He got out and strolled over as cool as a cucumber and asked if I was okay. It didn't seems to bother him that both he, and his passenger, had come within a gnats whisker of pushing up daisies! Here we go I thought, but no protest was forthcoming, it was his fault and he knew it. Meanwhile his wife had turned up and was giving him a tongue lashing in whichever Scandinavian language it was, not sure if was for driving like an idiot or wanting to know who the leggy blonde was in the car with him, guess I'll never know, and don't really want to go there anyway. It turns out the guy is a purveyor of second hand high performance vehicles, so his card said, hence the big Audi. It did cross my mind that the reason he didn't seem fazed by the affair was probably this happens to him often, a bit like scratching a wheel trim to anyone else, and he would just get another car off the forecourt anyway. Both realising that a lack of Spanish was going to be a problem, he suggested we started filling out the accident form and he would ring his mechanic who would organise the Grua to tow the vehicles. Neither of us could find an accident form in our respective vehicles, I had no chance in the umpteen folders of assorted paper in the van, luckily his mechanic had now turned up and had one, that's when things started going downhill for me. One of the eccentricities of Spanish law is you are required to carry all your documents in the vehicle, unlike the UK. Great for car and identity thieves alike. If you get stopped by the authorities, it's fine unless you have already reported it stolen. Is this you car sir? No, it's a friends, I'm just borrowing it. And you have all the documents you need, log book, ITV, insurance (as long as you are over 26), along with all the receipts you'll ever need and probably a copy of the owners driving licence. So, off you go through France to eastern Europe, or maybe a ferry to north Africa and jackpot, sell it the first person with the required currency.

My problem was I could find the owners insurance, and I was starting to get 'looks' due not finding it, their faces said it all, here we go, uninsured. There was just about anything else you could want, an entire life history going back years, along with some large chunks of other people's too, but no certificate of insurance that wasn't years out of date. A desperate phone call to the owner in UK later, getting assured that what I was seeking was there, what I actually needed was the certificate that I had already found and the receipt to prove it was paid for this year. Apparently, if you renew a policy, you don't get a new certificate, just a receipt to prove you have continued paying for another year. The search continued, but this time I had a lots of help, eventually the receipt was found, relief just does not cover it, not even close. The tow trucks arrive, and both vehicles are taken away for assessment by the insurance companies, but not on Monday, it's a 'red' day, the Spanish equivalent of a bank holiday, but more so. On Tuesday the insurance asked me to 'pop in' half an hours drive away to show my documents, which they didn't actually want anyway. My friend asked for a loan car since the other side were paying. Sure, he could have one, come back Monday, so he declined, thinking his van would be back on the road by then. Wrong. This is Spain, it's August, just about everything is shut, and what is open works very slowly indeed. He could not see the come back in September look on their faces, I could, I've seen it before. The wait continues.

A point to note. The police were called at the time of the accident, and after getting across that no-one was hurt, therefore no ambulance was required, and that we had cleared the road and were not holding up the traffic, do you think anyone turned up? I'll give you a clue, it was Sunday and siesta time, guess. I have since found out what all those check boxes mean on the Spanish universal accident form that everyone is supposed to have, so will be better informed if it ever happens again, and will know what to do with it. I have learned, that if you go through a broker for you insurance, as my friend did, things taken a long time to sort, even by Spanish standards, that means forever. I now know of someone who had to pay for his own bumper replacing, then wait in excess of nine months to get the money back! I have learned that you only keep what you really need to in that little folder in the glove box, not your life history, maybe my friend (he's still speaking to me) has got that one too. It will save you a lot of stress at a time when you don't really need any more if you are in a similar situation. I have learned that not all men in their forties have outgrown the boy racer stage in their life. I still go round that roundabout several times a day, and I'm a little wary of cars on the inside lane, I've been carved up before there, but the last time was a little too close for comfort. And finally I have learned o can waffle on a bit sometimes, my apologies.

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