Wherein Cora Gets Into a Car Accident

So I was in a car accident yesterday. But don’t worry, I’m fine. I wasn’t even in the car, when it was hit. And the other people involved in the accident are okay as well – thankfully, no one has any major injuries. However, my car is trashed and so are two other cars.

In other news, I have a new article at Galactic Journey about two botched police operations in the summer of 1971 in West Germany, which left three people, including two young women of nineteen and twenty respectively, dead. This was initially supposed to be a movie review with the shooting of Red Army Fraction member Petra Schelm as an intro, but it turned into a true crime piece, when I came across contemporary news articles with amazing details and also stumbled upon that bank robbery in Munich, the first ever bank robbery with hostages taken in postwar West Germany, and the complete and utter police incompetence.

LACon V also starts today and while I’m only participating virtually, I am on the program, so all this happened at a really bad time as well.

But back to the accident. So let’s start in the beginning:

Hiking on the Heath

Yesterday was a beautiful late summer day, clear, sunny and not overly warm. And since I had nothing pressing to do, I decided to take the opportunity and drive out into the Lüneburg Heath, a large nature park that sits smack in the middle between the cities of Bremen, Hamburg and Hannover. It’s a lovely region, great for hiking at any time of the year. However, for a few weeks in late summer, the Lüneburg Heath becomes something very special. Because that’s when the heather blooms and covers the land in tiny pinkish purple blossoms.

For a taste of what it looks like, see below. This is the so-called Klein Bünstorfer Heath near the town of Bad Bevensen at the eastern edge of the nature park.

Since the Lüneburg Heath is only about a hundred kilometers away from where I live, I try to go hiking during heath bloom at least once. And yesterday was the perfect opportunity: Sunny, dry, not too warm, plus I didn’t have any translation work or an article to hand in for once.

The official tourist website of the Lüneburg Heath nature park has something called a heath bloom barometer, where you can see how the heath bloom has progressed over all and which parts of the heath are already in full bloom and which are still developing, because they don’t all bloom at the same time. I usually use this heath bloom barometer to determine where to go, because the Lüneburg Heath isn’t one single big field of heather, but there are mutliple patches of heath scattered around the nature park, nestled between towns, woodlands and agricultural land.

According to the heath bloom barometer, the entire nothern half of Lüneburg Heath is pretty much in full bloom, so there were multiple options. One was driving to Buchholz in the Northern Heath (yes, that’s the full name of the town, since there are multiple towns named Buchholz in Germany, including several in North Germany), which has the advantage of being close to Autobahn A1 and thus easy to get to.

The other option was driving into the heart of the nature park. Now I did want to avoid the region around Wilseder Berg, the highest elevation on the Lüneburg Heath and in North West Germany with a whopping 169 meters above sea level.  Not because it isn’t lovely – it is – but because it’s also the busiest part of the heath. The parking lots in Ober- und Niederhaverbeck (the immediate area around the Wilseder Berg is car-free and has been since it became a nature preserve in 1921) are full of tourist busses, camper vans and cars. And other patches of heath are just as lovely, but much less busy. So I looked at at towns like Schneverdingen, Bispingen or Behringen and the multiple patches of heath in their surroundings.

It’s Road Trip Time

On Tuesday morning, I set off very early at shortly after six AM, because I wanted to get through the construction zone at the Weser Bridge on Autobahn A1 before the morning rush hour. The daily traffic jam was already piling up, but at this early hour,  it only took me five minutes or so to get through.

On the radio, I heard that Autobahn A1 was completely closed between the exits Bockel and Elsdorf due to an accident that had happened around five thirty AM. The warning signs on the Autobahn promised a one hour delay. So Buchholz in the Northern Heath was out, because Buchholz is just south of Hamburg, well beyond Bockel and Elsdorf.

At the time, I was very confused why there had been an accident serious enough to close down the entire A1 between Bockel and Elsdorf of all places. Now Autobahn A1 is wide, straight and flat between Bockel and Elsdorf, there is no speed limit here and there are no construction zones, so it’s about the least likely place for a serious accident. I later learned that the accident was caused by a driver having a sneezing attack, which caused him to crash into another car, and then a third car crashed into both. Three people injured, one of them seriously. I guess this one can be filed under “Shit happens”, which would appear to be something of the motto of the day.

So I only had two options. The first was drive onto Autobahn A27 towards Hannover and change onto Autobahn A7 at juntion Walsrode and leave at either exit Bad Fallingborstel or Soltau or Schneverdingen or Bispingen and approach the Lüneburg Heath from the East. However, this option wasn’t very tempting, because there is a construction zone at junction Walrode which tends to cause traffic jams. And the stretch of Autobahn A7 between junction Walsrode and Hamburg is also prone to traffic jams and accidents, because the Autobahn hasn’t been fully expanded to six lanes here yet, even though it’s very busy. The reasoning is that the Lüneburg Heath is sparsely populated, so four lanes are deemed sufficient for now. However, Autobahn A7 not only connects Hamburg and Hannover, two large cities with lots of traffic, but it’s also one of the main north-south routes for not just Germany, but all of Europe, along with Autobahn A1.

The other option and the one I picked was leave Autobahn A1 at exit Stuckenborstel, i.e. one exit before the Autobahn closure between Bockel and Elsdorf and the resulting traffic jam and drive through the Zeven geest on smaller country roads. So that’s what I did. I left Autobahn A1 at exit Stuckenborstel and drove on Bundesstraße B75 towards Rotenburg on Wümme. Bundesstraßen, literally federal roads, are two lane roads that are a step below Autobahnen. Below them are Landesstraßen, state roads, and Kreisstraßen, county roads.

Breakfast in Sottrum

Just off the Autobahn, there is a village called Sottrum. Since it was still very early in the morning, about seven AM, I stopped for breakfast at a place called Hedgehog Bakery Holste. As for why it’s called that, I intially envisioned hedgehogs baking bread. But it’s really named after a type of organic whole grain bread called “Hedgehog” that’s a specialty of the bakery.  The entire bakery is organic BTW and a really good one.

I ordered a tomato and brie sandwich and a latte macchiato and also bought a bag of chocolate chip cookies and a tasty looking pizza roll, which I planned to have for dinner.

I also took the following picture. I took some action figures along, because the Lüneburg Heath is also a great place for outdoor toy photography.

“So is this what they have for breakfast on Earth, Adam?”

“Uhm, sometimes. Sometimes it’s also cereal or waffles or müsli or pancake.”

“I have no idea what any of that is, though I do like this brownish drink.”

“That’s coffee.”

“I approve. It’s good strong warrior’s brew.”

“It helped me survive many a difficult day in the off… – ahem, many a difficult day of combat training.”

“This bread looks hearty and will give us plenty of energy for a long of training. And you will need the energy, cause I’m planning to wear you out, Adam.”

“I can’t wait. At least, if you mean what I hope you mean.”

“May I have one of those round things with dark sprinkles, Adam? Cause they’re tasty.”

“Those are chocolate chip cookies, Cringer. And no, you can’t have any, because the cookies are after training snacks.”

“Could we just skip the training and get right to the snacks?”

***

After breakfast, I set off again. It was just before eight AM now and since the local school was close to the bakery, I passed lots of kids heading to school. One teen boy going to school with his younger sister even politely wished me a good morning, when I stepped to the side to let a bunch of kids pass. The new school year started two weeks ago in my state.

I was planning to head to Schneverdingen about 45 kilometers away. There are two patches of heath near Schneverdingen, the Höpener Heath and Eastern Heath as well as another patch of heath in a nearby village called Heber. And if I didn’t like either of those, I could drive onwards to Bispingen and Behringen.

Just after Sottrum, I got a brief shock, because a deer crossed the road just ahead of me. Accidents with deers are very common in my region and drivers are urged to be careful, usually with mixed results. There was a speed limit of 70 kilometers per hous on this part of the road and though I had to brake, there was no danger of hitting the deer. Nonetheless, the incident with the deer spooked me a little and I drove even more carefully.

What is more, I was headed straight east, towards the rising sun. As a result, visibility wasn’t great, because the sun was blinding, since it was still fairly low in the sky, and also casting weird shadows on the road.

I followed Bundestraße B75 to Rotenburg on Wümme, which is the county seat and the largest town in the region. In Rotenburg, I changed onto Bundestraße B71. The B71 mostly passes through fields and woodlands, though there also are a few villages on route and so I drove through the villages of Hemsbünde, Brockel (not to be confused with Bockel, which is further north) and Hemslingen.

In Hemslingen, I changed onto a smaller road, which I later learned was called Landestraße L170, towards Schneverdingen. However, the roadsign pointed not just towards Schneverdingen, but also towards a village called Grauen, which is the German word for horror. I probably should have taken this as a bad omen, but instead I just viewed it as a really weird town name of which there are a few in the region.

Horror in Grauen

While driving along the L170, I passed an accident that had happened in the opposite direction. A van was lying in the ditch, another car had stopped along the road, a woman was standing and another woman was sitting in the grass. Initially, I thought that the two cars had crashed into each other.

So I stopped my car, half on the shoulder and half on the road. There was a ditch on both sides of the L170, so I could not park fully on the grassy shoulder. I switched on the warning lights, grabbed my phone and walked over to the accident site to ask, if they needed help.

The woman who was on her feet told me that she had driven past just before I came along and found the van in the ditch. So the two cars had not crashed into each other, but the van had crashed into the ditch at what appeared to be a pretty high speed (there is no speed limit on this stretch of L170, so the maximum speed in one hundred kilometers per hour). The van was completely smashed and debris was strewn all over the road, the ditch and a cornfield for about ten meters. The woman sitting in the grass had been the driver.

The woman who was first on site told me that she had already called the police and an ambulance and also the husband of the driver. The couple lived in nearby Hemslingen and the husband was already on the way. I offered to stay, until the police and the ambulance arrived. For while the driver was – miraculously – physically unhurt except for a bleeding nose and some scratches, she also was distraught and clearly in shock and we couldn’t leave her alone. And two people are better than one.

I told the driver that the most important thing is that she’s okay. The car is just piece of metal. She was still completely distraught and crying and kept saying she had no idea what happened. We asked if there was a deer or if the sun blinded her. She said that she suddenly lost control and didn’t remember anything else. Most likely, one of her tires had blown.

The driver had managed to grab her bag, but she said something of hers – a white plastic bag – had been thrown into the cornfield. I offered to fetch it, but had to give up, because there was still the ditch next to the road and I didn’t really want to wade through a ditch to fetch a shopping bag. A large chunk of metal – I think it was a headlight, was lying in the middle of the road, so I kicked it onto the shoulder, lest it cause another accident.

I have wet wipes in my handbag and went back to the car to fetch them, so the driver could clear herself up. The other woman got the warning triangle from the trunk of her car and I went to set it up at a distance from the accident site.

Other cars passed the accident and slowed down. A few stopped and asked if we needed help. We said, “It’s okay, the driver isn’t badly hurt and police and ambulance are on the way.

The driver’s husband arrived first. He rushed to his wife to comfort her and told her that it was okay, the important thing was that she was safe, never mind about the car. Clearly a prime example of a good husband. In the rush to get to his wife, he had forgotten his phone, so I offered to calls his employer on my phone. The employer turned out to be a funeral parlour of all things. So I called the funeral parlour and handed my phone over to the husband, so he could tell his employer what had happened and that he would be late or not come in at all.

The husband parked his car on an agricultural sideroad (which in retrospect I should have done as well) and also placed his warning triangle on the other side of of the road, so the accident site on the L170 was secured in both directions. What is more, both my car and the other woman’s car had their warning lights on. The L170 is a very straight road in this spot and everybody should be able to notice from a safe distance that there is a problem here.

We spotted the flashing blue lights of the ambulance arriving from the direction of Schneverdingen. The other woman and I said, “Once the ambulance is here, we can probably leave, unless the police needs us for a statement.” Though none of us had witnesses the actual accident, only the aftermath.

The ambulance arrived, stopped on the road, blue lights still flashing, to see to the driver. The other woman and I asked the paramedics if it was okay if we left now or if we were still needed. We also wished the driver and her husband all the best.

And then it happened.

The Crash 

While the two paramedics, the husband, the other woman and I were all standing around the driver next to the crashed van, a taxi drove past at a significant speed. I estimate that the taxi was going about fifty to sixty kilometers per hour – past a secured accident site with warning triangles and an ambulance with flashing blue lights standing on the road. In short, there were plenty of indicators to slow the fuck down and drive carefully and in fact, other cars and even a truck had done just that, slowed down and driven carefully past the accident site.

The taxi, however, barely slowed down and instead decided to drive past an obvious accident site at fity to sixty kilometers per hour. The taxi swerved past the ambulance and crashed directly into my car, which was still parked on the shoulder with warning lights on.

I yelled, “Oh fuck! That fucking idiot just crashed into my car!” One of the paramedics reacted like, “Really? What an idiot!”

I ran over to my car. At this moment, I was understandably angry at the driver and would have probably have yelled at him. But by the time I reached the taxi, I saw that every single airbag in the taxi had been triggered by the crash. The driver was still in the driver’s seat and it occurred to me that he might have been hurt, so I asked him, if he was okay, instead of yelling at him. Though I did say, “By the way, you just hit my car.” Thankfully, there was no passenger in the taxi, which makes me wonder why he went so fast.

One of the paramedics also came over to check on the driver, while his colleague was tending to the woman from the van. The taxi driver got out of the car on his own and seemed unhurt, though he was shaking. He lit a cigarette, which in retrospect wasn’t a great idea, since there might have been a fuel leak. The paramedic examined him and found no visible injuries, though he told the taxi driver to call an ambulance, if he should feel dizzy or sick. He also said that there was no need to call the police, because they were already on the way.

I told the taxi driver: “I’ll need your insurance information.” I also realised I needed to call my insurance as well as the Mercedes-Benz helpline to check on my car and see if it was safe to drive with the damage. As I went around the car to take photos of the damage for the insurance, I saw that the rear tire on the driver’s side was flat, damaged by the crash.

“Fuck, my tire is flat”, I exclaimed, “This car isn’t driving anywhere.”

Note that I was about seventy kilometers from home, with a damaged car that wasn’t driving one more centimeter and I had no idea how to get home.

You can find the photos I took below. I blurred out the name of the taxi company as well as the licence plate except for the first two letters, which indicate the county where the vehicle is registered (DH stands for County Diepholz, HK for County Heidekreis, literally Heath County). The black car is mine, the cream-coloured car is the taxi.

I was going to call the Mercedes-Benz helpline first, so they could send someone to tow the car. Now the number of the Mercedes-Benz helpline is printed clearly visible inside the car in the glove compartment. However, I was so nervous and shaking that I couldn’t find it, since the stuff in the glove compartment – manual, service booklet, old receipts, all spilled out. However, I found the card with the insurance information in the glove compartment. So I decided to call the insurance company first. I had just started the call and was directed to the “Press 1 to report a damage, Press 2 to…” robot, when I spotted the flashing blue lights of a police car approaching, so I hung up for now. I could call the insurance later.

Aftermath

The police stopped their car at some distance from the double crash site and one paramedic went to meet them and explain what happened. Most likely, it was something along the line of “No one is seriously injured, we just have a lot of twisted metal and distraught drivers here.”

Meanwhile, traffic was piling up on both sides of the L170 behind a tractor in one direction and a truck in the other, both of whom were wise enough not to try to pass. Between the ditch and the cornfields, there is a bike path and several cyclists drove past. Some of them stopped to take a look at the accident or ask if anybody needed help and one older woman on a bike stopped to talk to the woman who had been at the accident site first. I suspect they knew each other.

The police first went to look at the van in the ditch, which was in considerably worse condition than either of our cars, and to talk to the driver, while the taxi driver and I waited. The taxi driver also called his boss to inform her about the accident, while smoking his third cigarette or so.

The drivers of one of the cars waiting came over to me and said that the taxi had overtaken him just before the crash and that the driver had been driving recklessly and said he would give a statement to the police, if necessary. I thanked him. Though in the end, I don’t think the man had to give a statement, since the crash had happened in full view of two paramedics.

After the police officers had examined the van and questioned the driver (if she was able to answer questions by this point), they came over to me and the taxi driver, informed us we had the right to remain silent and asked for our ID-cards, driver’s licence and the vehicle licence. I got my papers and gave them to the officer and the taxi driver got his. The officers than took the papers to their car to log the information and probably run some kind of ID check.

Then one of them came over to me and asked me what I believe happened. I explained that I’d seen the accident on the other side and stopped to help, that I switched on the warning lights, that I had to stop partially on the road because of the ditch, that we set warning triangles on both sides and that the taxi swerved past the ambulance and crashed into my car. The officer asked me if I was inside the car. I replied that I was standing near the crashed van, maybe ten or fifteen meters away from the car.

The officer also asked when the crash happened. I said, “I’m not sure. I heard the weather report on the radio at twenty past eight and then I saw the accident a bit later and stopped and I’d been here for a while, when the taxi crashed into my car. So maybe it was eight forty-five or nine.” The taxi driver claimed it was nine twenty. Though according to my phone, I first tried to call the insurance company at a minute past nine, so the taxi driver was mistaken.

I also told the officers that there was liquid on the ground at the crash site. It didn’t look like oil or fuel to me, but they might want to check it out. At the time, a potential explosion risk didn’t even occur to me nor that the taxi driver might have blown us all up with his smoking. However, if there was oil or fuel on the road, the police would have to call the fire brigade to clean it up and prevent pollution of the environment. The police officer did take a look at the puddle and said it was cooling liquid from the taxi and not dangerous.

The officers then asked the taxi driver for his version of the story. He basically said that he drove past the accident site, didn’t see my car and couldn’t brake in time. They asked him at what speed he was going, though I don’t know what he said. One officer also took the taxi driver away for an alcohol test. I’m not sure if this is standard procedure in such cases or if they suspected the taxi driver might have been drunk. He was clearly nervous and shaken – which is understandable – and he did seem a little shady. He also had what looked like ex-con tattoos on his lower arm.

The police officers didn’t test me for alcohol, because I wasn’t even in the car, when the crash happened let alone driving. They also gave me back my papers and told me I should call the police station in Schneverdingen later that day, so they could give me a file reference for the police report, since the insurance would likely want it.

Once the police were finished with me, I decided to try calling the Mercedes-Benz helpline. But I still couldn’t find the number, so I called my local dealer/garage, whose number I have programmed into the phone, and asked them to give me the number of the helpline. I then tried to call the number they gave me, only to get “We’re sorry, but you can only call this number from a landline connection”, which made me exclaim, quite loudly, “What the fuck! I’m in the fucking middle of nowhere, so where the fuck should I find a landline?” That outburst caused one of the police officers to come over and asked what the matter was.

I apologised and said that I had problems reaching the Mercedes-Benz helpline and that cellphone reception was really bad in the area. I also asked the police officer where we even were, because there was no roadsign or anything, just fields and trees. And all I could have said at this point is, “I’m somewhere between Rotenburg on Wümme and Schneverdingen”, which is not exactly precise and the Mercedes-Benz helpline would need a more exact location to send help.

The police officer said that we were on the L170 between Nersum and Grauen in Heidekreis county and that there was an exact location given on one of the roadside guide posts. “Well, Grauen is certainly an appropriate name,” I said.

I finally got enough cellphone reception to google the number of the Mercedes-Benz helpline and called it.  I got connected almost right away and said, “I had an accident and I need help.”

Now Mercedes-Benz offers what they call a mobility guarantee, i.e. if you take your car to be serviced whenever recommended, they will help you free of charge, if you ever have a breakdown and accident. I have only ever needed that service, when my battery gave out and I couldn’t start the car.

The guy on the other end of the line asked me all sorts of questions. What model of car, what licence plate, when first registered, what is the regular garage? He also remarked that the mobility guarantee was still in the name of my Dad, whereupon I explained that he died and the car was now registered in my name, but I forgot to update the information. He also asked what the car’s mileage was and I said, let me check the dashboard if it’s still displayed. Since the warning lights were on, the dashboard was active as well and the mileage was displayed.

The man also asked me if the car could still roll onto a tow truck or if they needed a crane. I replied, “Well, the rear driver’s side tire is flat, but it should still be able to roll onto a tow truck.”

Explaining to the fellow where exactly I was turned out to be a bit more difficult, because the Mercedes-Benz helpline is a Frankfurt on Main phone number and someone in Frankfurt is as familiar with small towns and villages in the Lüneburg Heath as I am with small towns and villages in the Taunus region, i.e. not at all.

The conversation went something like this:

“I’m on the L170 between Grauen and Nersum. Grauen as in horror. This is in Heidekreis.”

“Do you mean Heidkrug?”

“No, Heidekreis as in Lüneburg Heath. That’s what the county is called.”

“Okay, I found Grauen. What’s the other town? Neuenkirchen?”

“Neuenkirchen is somewhere hereabouts [I happened to know that there is a town called Neuenkirchen in the Heidekreis, because I drove through it last year], but not that close. Nersum is the name of the other village and the nearest bigger town is Schneverdingen.”

I later learned that though Neuenkirchen is further away than Schneverdingen, the villages of Nersum and Grauen are part of Neuenkirchen thanks to the bloody 1974 Lower Saxony community reform.

The guy at the Mercedes-Benz helpline finally found Nersum and could pinpoint where I was. He told me that they would be sending a tow truck to take the car to the nearest Mercedes-Benz dealer, but that it would take about half an hour for the tow truck to arrive.

He also told me that the Mercedes-Benz mobility guarantee covered the costs of a rental car for three days and that the Mercedes-Benz dealer where they were taking my car would get me a rental, though I would have to show them my driver’s licence and bank card. I said, “That’s okay. I have everything here. And I don’t need a rental car for three days, cause I have another car. I only need one to get home. Also, while I can drive a car with a manual shift, I haven’t actually driven a car with a manual shift in ten years or so and I don’t really feel up to it right now.” In fact, I didn’t really want to drive home in an unfamiliar car at all, but there was no other option. The Mercedes-Benz guy assured me that they would give me an automatic car.

Why I Have Two Cars

Now I really do have two cars. Back when my parents were still alive, we had two cars in the household, because both my Dad and I were driving regularly, namely the Mercedes and a Mitsubishi Outlander plug-in hybrid. Nominally, the Mercedes was Dad’s car and the hybrid mine, though we both used them interchangeably, depending who was going where. Basically for shorter trips within the battery range, we used the hybrid, because it was much cheaper, since we can recharge the hybrid at home. But the hybrid’s battery is only good for fifty to sixty kilometers, less in winter, then you have to use the regular engine. So for longer trips, we used the Mercedes, because the diesel engine is more efficient than the gas engine of the hybrid.

As for why I kept both cars, Dad barely said anything about what he wanted to happen after he died. He never even said where he wanted to be buried, so I made that decision for him. However, when Dad was already pretty sick, I said, “Well, if you’re not going to the office every day anymore, we can maybe sell the Mercedes.” And he said, “No. Put it in the garage and use it, when you need to.” And since this was pretty much the only wish he ever uttered, I kept the Mercedes and used it for longer trips and the hybrid for short trips, just like we had done when Dad was still alive.

That’s also why possibly losing the Mercedes hurts. Yes, it’s just a car. But it was Dad’s car and it was my companion on all my roadtrips. It’s the car that took me to cons in the Ruhrgebiet and Hanau and Heidelberg and Berlin and Antwerp, the car I took when I had to interpret in court in Bremerhaven or Verden or Zeven, the car I took to go to Hamburg for a day on the town or to visit my friend Michael near Hildesheim or to drive across the Dutch border. Meanwhile, the hybrid, much as I love it, is the car I use to go grocery shopping.

Besides, the Mercedes is a great car. It passed the biannual technical and safety inspection with flying colours last year and it got new tyres last fall, one of which is now punctured. And Mercedes tyres are expensive. I estimate that the Mercedes, though fifteen years old, had at least another ten years of service life ahead, if not more. And I tend to drive my cars until they fall apart or repairs are no longer feasible. I managed to keep my Mom’s old Volkswagen Jetta going for twenty-eight-years, only two years before it would officially be designated a historical vehicle. And though the car that replaced the Jetta was lightyears better, part of me is still sour that I did not get the official historical vehicle designation. I kind of hoped the Mercedes would be the car that lasts long enough to finally get the historical vehicle designation.

The plan was to keep the Mercedes and the hybrid for as long feasible. Then, when I need a new car, the next one will be fully electrical, because while battery technology and charging infrastructure wasn’t yet sufficient, when we got the hybrid, it is sufficient now.

At one point, the husband of the woman in the van came over to me to thank me for stopping to help his wife and said he was sorry that my car was hit. I said, “Well, it’s silly to be upset, because it’s just a car, but this was my Dad’s car and it also took me on so many trips. Only last month, we were in Berlin and earlier this summer, we were in Heidelberg” He said that he understands and that the reason his wife was so distraught about the van was all the memories connected with it of holidays in Norway and Croatia, all with the van that was no lying trashed in a ditch along the L170.

I asked if his wife was okay and he said the paramedics were still examining her for possible internal injuries.

Waiting 

While I was talking to the Mercedes-Benz helpline, the boss of the taxi driver showed up. She examined the damage, talked to the driver and drove off again. She never even talked to me, which I find kind of rude.

Once I was finished with the Mercedes-Benz helpline, I called the insurance to report the accident. I said I’m really sorry, but I don’t know my insurance number. It is on the card that was in glove compartment, but the card was Dad’s insurance number, not mine. The person in the other end of the line that that’s okay, if I give them my name, birthdate and licence plate, they would find it.

They found the policy and asked questions and once again asked what had happened, what the licence plate of the other car was, what the name of the taxi company and the driver was. The name of the taxi company was on the car, but I had to ask the driver for his name. They also asked for the file reference of the police report and I said, “There is none yet. The police are still here, directing traffic. I was told I can call the station this afternoon, then I will call you back.”

The police was indeed still there and the officers were directing the traffic that had piled up, including a tractor and several trucks, past the crash site. One police officer also cleared debris from the road. Meanwhile, the husband of the woman in the van busied himself picking up all sorts of parts of the van and what had been inside. He actually did wade through the ditch to pick up some stuff from the cornfield.

Once I finished with the insurance company, I went over to the driver and asked him if he was in trouble with the police. He said he’d have to pay a fine, but since no one was injured in the crash, it was only considered a minor offence. I said I was glad to hear that, for even though the guy trashed my car, I don’t want him to lose his licence or his job because of that. He gave me his card and I gave him my name, address and the name of the insurance company and said I didn’t know the number. Meanwhile, he showed me his insurance information and I took a photo of it with my phone.

A Ride in a Big Yellow Tow Truck

After some more waiting, we finally spotted the first tow truck arriving. I said to the husband of the woman in the van, “Well, I wonder if that one is for you or for me or the taxi.” The husband said, “This one’s probably for us, since it has a crane.” Almost immediately after the first tow truck, another one arrived. That one turned out to be for me. Meanwhile, the taxi driver was still waiting to be towed. He said his boss had called someone, but he didn’t know when they would arrive.

I went over to my car and picked up my handbag, the bag with the Masters of the Universe action figures I’d taken along for outdoors toy photography, my water bottle, the automatic garage door opener and the charge cable for my phone. There was a still a shopping basket with the cookies and the pizza roll I’d bought in the trunk, but I didn’t want to open the trunk, because I wasn’t sure if it would make the damage worse.

The two tow trucks stopped and the drivers took stock of the situation. The truck with the crane headed for the van, while the other driver came over to me. He asked for my car keys, which I gave to him. The driver then told me I should get into the tow truck, while he took care of the car.

Now this was a really big yellow tow truck. The cabin was maybe one and half meters above ground level and in order to get inside, I had to climb up two very narrow steps. So I put my bags on the bench first and then clambered. Thanfully, there were handgrips to hold on to, because falling from a tow truck was about the last thing I needed.

Somehow I managed to climb into the truck and settled down. The truck shook a few times, which I assume was from my car being moved onto the truck bed. Once I was inside the cabin, I realised that the police had blocked the entire road and that there was once more traffic piling up on both sides once again. The reason was that the other tow truck was blocking the entire road, while trying to pull the van from the ditch.

Meanwhile, the driver of my truck hadn’t come back yet, even though we could theoretically have left. I waited and wondered whether they had problems disentangling my car from the taxi, though it later turned out the driver was just helping his colleague with the van. I got out my phone and saw that reception was enough for phone calls, though the internet barely worked. So I called my neighbour Vladimir to tell him that I had a car accident and that I was okay, but the car was not. He asked if I needed help to get home. I said, “I think they’re giving me a rental, but if not I’ll call you again.”

The sun was higher in the sky by now and the cabin of the tow truck was getting warm and stuffy, so I lowered the window. The window was still operated by a manual crank, something I haven’t seen in decades. But then trucks don’t always have the amenities passengers cars have. I was also really glad I took my water bottle, because I hadn’t drunken anything since the coffee I had at the bakery and was thirsty.

After even more waiting, the tow truck driver finally returned. Except that it wasn’t the driver to whom I’d given my car keys. Turned out the drivers had switched trucks. I asked if everything was okay or if they were problems disentangling my car from the taxi. He replied, “No, your car wasn’t the problem. But we had issues getting the van out of the ditch.”

It was after ten AM when we finally drove off.  Meanwhile, the taxi driver was still waiting to be towed. The tow truck drove through the village of Grauen, which did not at all look horrible. The truck then turned onto another road and passed through a village named Tewel that I’d never heard of. We also passed some of the beautiful purple heath where I had wanted to go hiking.

When the truck reached Neuenkirchen, the town I knew was somewhere in the area, but not that close, I asked the driver. “Where are you taking me? Schneverdingen.”

The driver replied, “No, Soltau. Schneverdingen doesn’t have a Mercedes-Benz dealership.”

Now Soltau is more than twenty kilometers from the accident site – in the wrong direction. Rotenburg on Wümme would have been closer and in the right direction. But Rotenburg is in another county, so Soltau it was.

If you live in North Germany, you mainly associate Soltau with the Heide Park theme park, cause pretty much everybody has been there at some point in the past 48 years.  Of course, I was there as well, but only once with my Aunt and Uncle. My parents didn’t much care for theme parks – which is why I am grateful they did give me the opportunity to experience Disney World – and the school took us to Magic Park in Verden, which is closer and cheaper.

The Lüneburg Heath may be thinly populated, but because it’s only about an hour away from Hamburg, Bremen and Hannover and their respective metro regions with some three million people, it also has a remarkable number of theme parks and similar attractions. Heide Park is the biggest and most famous one, but there’s also the Bird Park in Walsrode, the Serengeti Park in Hodenhagen and the attractions Iserhatsche and Snow World and the Center Parc resort in Bispingen.  There are also several zoos, animal parks, cart race tracks, minigolf courses and other attractions. The Lüneburg Heath tourist website lists a whopping eighteen theme parks and attractions in the Lüneburg Heath. It’s a strange mix of beautiful nature and weird attractions that often seem more suited to Las Vegas than the Lüneburg Heath.

The tow truck driver and I somehow started talking about Heide Park and how Heide Park is no longer what it once was. The tow truck driver said that they even closed down the log flume ride, which back in the day was the one attraction that Heide Park and Disney World didn’t – at least not, when I was there with my parents.

The tow truck finally arrived at the Mercedes-Benz dealership in Soltau.  I clambered out of the truck again and went inside with the driver. It turned out that the Mercedes-Benz helpline had not informed the dealership, but only called the tow truck, so I explained once again explained to the receptionist what had happened and answered the same questions I had answered several times before. Meanwhile, my car was unloaded on the yard of the dealership.

The receptionist took me to the lounge and asked me to wait, while a mechanic examined the car. I said that the service booklet and the last technical and safety inspection report were in the glove compartment. They were happy to have those. I’m not sure what they will make of the rest of the jumble in the glove compartment.

I got myself a coffee from the coffeemaker in the lounge and settled down. I got out my phone, but though I was in a city of 22000 people, I still still didn’t have a decent data connection and couldn’t connect to the internet. I suspect the problem might have been the WiFi at the dealership.

So I waited. The receptionist returned after a while and took me to see the head mechanic for commercial vehicles, because the head mechanic for passenger vehicles was not in the office. He told me that they looked at the car and that they would call in an appraiser the next day, who would write an official report for the insurance. I asked if the car could be saved and the mechanic said that the damage is repairable, but they have to see if it’s feasible, considering the car is fifteen years old. I also told them that I had an official estimate what the car was worth from my dealership, because after Dad died, I needed for the estate. If the insurance or the appraiser needed it, I could get them a copy.

As what happens next, once the appraiser has finished his report, we would decide what to do next. I’ll definitely get compensated by the taxi driver’s insurance, either for the repairs or for the value of the car. I’ll also get some compensation for every day I can’t use the car. I told them that I have another car at home, but they said I’ll still get compensation. As for how long everything will take, it might be a few weeks.

I said that my shopping basket was still in the trunk and if it was possible to get it out. The mechanic said it’s okay and I should get what I want from the car. So the receptionist took me to the car. The tailgate still opened, even though it was damaged and I saw that a chunk of plastic, most likely from the fender, had landed in the trunk. I picked up my shopping basket with the pizza roll and the bag of cookies and also the emergency shopping bag and the umbrella I keep in the trunk. Then I got some stuff from the passenger compartment: my old road atlas (cause when I have no phone reception and no GPS, I still have the atlas), a few receipts from the glove compartment that I need for the taxes, the chocolate and the aspirin I always keep in the car. I left stuff like towels, tissues, the parking disk, the ice scraper as well as my emergency underpants and sanitary pad behind, because should I never see them again, it’s no huge loss. Besides, my shopping basket was already full of random stuff, including an umbrella.

As for how to get me home, the receptionist told me that they didn’t have a car available for me and would have to get one from a rental company. But since I have another car, would it be okay if one of their employees would drive me home. I said, “Yes, that would be great.” Cause I was still shaken and didn’t particularly want to drive, let alone an unfamiliar rental car.

Unfortunately, the employee who was supposed to take me home had gone to lunch, so I would have to wait another twenty minutes or so. I said, “That’s okay.” The receptionist also told me that if I was hungry, there was a supermarket with a bakery in the vicinity. I said, “No, I’m fine. Besides, I have a pizza roll I bought dinner and some cookies.”

So I went back to the lounge – with my shopping basket and the umbrella, which got me some odd looks from the other customers – made myself another coffee and waited. I still couldn’t get an internet connection. After some time, the receptionist reappeared and said her colleague had returned from lunch and was ready to take me home.

The Drive Home 

The employee who took me home was a very nice man in his 60s, theoretically retired, but working beyond retirement, cause otherwise he’d get bored. He told me he’d been a truck driver and a school bus driver before he ended up at the Mercedes dealership.

He also told me he was Russian-German, i.e. a descendant of German immigrants who settled in Russia at the invitation of Catherine the Great in the eighteenth century. Some two million Russian-Germans came to Germany in the 1990s after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. They live all over Germany, but there are clusters of Russian-Germans in certain regions, including the Lüneburg Heath. The man who took me home had been born in Kazakhstan, where Stalin banished a lot of Russian-Germans after WWII. I told him that my neighbour Vladimir was also Russian-German and had also been born in Kazakhstan, but came to Germany as a kid.

The drive home took one and a half hours and we had a pleasant chat throughout. The guy drove onto Autobahn A7 at exit Soltau and then changed onto Autobahn A27 at junction Walsrode. There was some lovely blooming heather next to the Autobahn.

I told the guy driving me that the traffic jam at Weser Bridge in Bremen would likely extend beyond the intersection of Autobahn A1 and A27 and that I would recommend leaving the A27 before hitting the traffic jam. My driver agreed and asked which exit to use. I replied that I usually left the A27 at Langwedel, but Verden or Achim would work as well. So the man consulted his GPS – which is better than mine, because the van we were using is newer – and it recommended leaving the A27 at exit Achim-East, so that’s what we did.

We crossed the Weser via the Ueser Bridge in Achim. I told the driver that the bridge was actually used as a filming location for Richard Lester’s anti-war film How I Won the War in 1967, standing in for the Rhine Bridge of Remagen, even though the Weser looks nothing like the Rhine and the Ueser Bridge nothing like the Remagen Bridge. Some scenes of How I Won the War were also shot in the Lüneberg Heath, at the Bergen military base (which still exists). How I Won the War is still fondly remembered in our region, especially since John Lennon himself filmed on the Ueser Bridge and lots of local young men appeared as extras in the film, though it’s mostly forgotten in its country of origin.

The driver then turned onto a very small road that runs directly behind the Weser dyke. “Oh, you’re going this way,” I exclaimed. The driver said that’s the route the GPS recommended and if it was all right. I said, “It’s fine. My Dad used to take this route a lot, when he was still working in Hamburg.” However, I once got terribly lost, while taking the road behind the dyke (that was in the days before GPS and Google Maps), so I usually go via Thedinghausen.

The road behind the dyke crosses the river Eiter, a tributary of the Weser, at the weir in Eißel. Soon afterwards, we reached familiar territory again. Normally, I would have driven home via Syke or Riede, but the driver went via Dreye, cause that way is slightly shorter, and then drove back onto Autobahn A1 at Arsten for the last two kilometers or so. The traffic jam in the other direction was extending well beyond exit Bremen-Brinkum and I said to the driver that it probably goes all the way to junction Stuhr.

“I don’t want to be stuck in that”, the driver said, “I’m going back the way we came and will just program the GPS for Thedinghausen.” I told him that Bundestraße B6 is closed between Erichshof and Melchiorshausen and has been for months (they’re laying now water pipes) and he would have to drive around the closure. “But it’s not very bad”, I said, “Only takes a few minutes longer.”

Once we left the A1 at exit Bremen-Brinkum, I directed the driver to my house and also told him how to get around the closed stretch of the B6, because chances are that his GPS would direct him right back towards the closed road. He dropped me off and I thanked him.

Turned out that the decision not to take Autobahn A1 was exactly the right choice, because that afternoon the entire Autobahn A1 was closed in both directions due to two serious accidents. In the first accident, a truck crashed into two cars and another truck – one driver died, two others were injured. In the other accident in the opposite direction, a cattle transport crashed into a van and another truck. This time around two drivers were injured and two cows died, but the remaining cows could be rescued from the cattle transport. The A1 was closed for fourteen hours or so with lengthy traffic jams and some drivers trapped for hours. It really seems to have been a bad day all around.

Home at Last

I finally made it home by two PM. I didn’t feel like cooking, but I also didn’t want to go out again to eat something, so I just ate the pizza roll I’d bought earlier that day and some of the cookies.

Then I called the police station in Schneverdingen to ask for the file reference to the police report and then I called the Mercedes dealership where my car was and the insurance to pass on the file reference. And since I wasn’t going out again that day, I also finally had the alcoholic drink I’d wanted since the crash. Then I took a nap.

The appraiser has since been there, but hasn’t written up his report yet, so I’m still in waiting mode. Besides, Worldcon kicks off today, but I’m not really in the mood at all.