Whistleblower
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What is this all about? It's about the untimely death of my latest car, which was a lease car from the UK charity Motability Operations.
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The sad part is that the insurance company was so keen on my accepting liability that it merely added more stress toan already difficult situation. Needless to say, I categorically refused to accept any blame whatsoever. Blame for what, you ask? Read on and be sobered.
Motability uses some or all of an indvidual's Disability Living Allowance (in practice, the higher rate mobility component). In order to qualify for a lease car, the individual must qualify for this component. Having FBSS (failed back surgery syndrome), I have ongoing eligibility.
The vehicle in question was my third Motability car, so I've had four years' freedom. Each lease lasts for three years. Assuming the car is in good condition when the lease ends, customers qualify for a condition bonus - I received this at the close of the two leases that went to full term.
To lease a better-equipped car, customers must make an advance payment. In my case, items including adjustable lumbar support and parking sensors are necessities, rather than luxuries. In this instance, it was my choice to pay a large advance payment for a high-end car.
Some may be wondering why this site is headed 'Whistleblower', and indeed what I am doing here. Please bear with me, all will made clear in the following sorry tale. But there is a twist in the tail...please read on...
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I collected my new car around mid-December 2015, releived that the extensively-reported flooding hereabouts had failed to claim it. The car's maiden voyage was a 50-mile trip up the M6. I used the car for two months or so and was very pleased with my choice. i was even proud of it, even though I knew it wasn't actually 'my' car and never would be. But pride goes before a fall as the saying goes. The time has come for anyone with even superficial enthusiasm for cars to prepare to wince. Now for the harrowing part.
On was the forty-eighth day of ownership and I started my lovely new car to head across town, to go to the archery club where I shoot my homebuilt crossbow once a week. The engine started effortlessly as usual and the lights and wipers activated automatically..
About a mile from where I live, I crossed the full-width speed pad that I've traversed a hundred times, noting the digital speed reading of 20mph - the usual speed at which I cross this obstacle... no cause for concern at all, or so I thought. I was so wrong this time.
Thirty yards on, there was an apocalyptic 'bang' from the nearside front of the car, it felt as though I'd hit something very big and very solid in the road. The front left of the car bucked skywards. There was an horrendous scraping sound and -all of a sudden - very little steering control. The car darted left and braking made it pull still harder to the left.
In the next instant, a parked car loomed up on the left. With badly compromised steering control, my car ploughed into it at about 10mph. As figures began to appear, I used what little control I had left to nurse the car towards the right-hand side of the road. as the car's residual momentum died away, it made its shuddering, shrieking, scraping way across to the white line and lurched to a halt.
Mindful of the danger to other road users, I tried to move the car further towards the opposite kerb. I could start the engine so I slipped the lever into first gear and let the clutch pedal up a little. The result was...nothing. No movement, no stalling, no drive, just the engine revving gently. There were no airbags in sight and all I could do was note that my thumb - sore from having hit the steering wheel - was intact and in the right place. I retrieved my spectacles from the footwell and climbed out of the car..
Two kindly Samaritans fitted the car's front towing eye for me and towed the weckage off the road with a car - mine couldn't be pushed even for an inch. By now, a police van had arrived - I was invited inside, out of the steady drizzle.
"When did you last have a drink, sir?" "I've been teeetotal since 1988, officer," I replied Blowing into the breathalyser was a formality. Since a recovery truck was en route, I took the opportunity to use my torch to try to find what I'd hit. Apart from a scrap or two of bodywork, there was nothing to be found anywhere near the point of impact, or anywhere in the vicinity.
An hour after the impact, a recovery low loader arrived. The driver winched my car's remains onto it. Torch in hand, I took a look at the damage. The car's nose end was not as badly mangled as I expected. However, the nearside wheel was leaning drunkenly outward at the top and was jammed tight into the wheel arch, which was well crushed and flared outward. The front wing was bulging oiutwards behind the arch and the passenger door couldn't be opened at all.
Worse was to come to light The nearside tyre had been skinned from the rim for a third of its circumference. Peering behind the wheel, I saw that the bottom suspension arm was snapped clean across and the driveshaft's inner end hadbeen pulled completey out of its location; this explained why the car couldn't move under its own power. Not that it could have done, given the wheel was well off-centre and jammed into the mangled bodywork.
A young lady - possibly the partner of the parked car's owner - took pity on me and kindly stood with me, and shared her unbrella. Oneof the police officers told me I'd be called for an interview under caution at the police station and the recovery truck driver kindly gave me a lift home. I closed the front door and went inside to warm up and lick my wounds.
Yes, I was pretty badly shaken. Chilling thoughts came to mind. What if the suspension had let go at 60mph on the motorway? What if a motorcyclist had encountered the debris? These things don't bear thinking about at best.
On the next pag, photos and captions, with my theories on what happened.