Jimmy Dillnuts: Luxury Slamajama
After a 5-month hiatus, Jimmy Dillnuts, idiot driver extraordinaire, is back in the news.
Snuggled down in the DeLorean's cozy leather seats, Suz and I were driving up to my parents place for a BBQ when we saw the mess on Sunday. Ah Sunday. That ominous day.
Noticing a vehicular diversion around an unknown obstruction, I anticipated an accident and whipped out my Sony. Suz is always worried when I bring my camera to my eye. She thinks that people will see us taking pictures and get upset. But I am convinced that the crowd is too preoccupied with the accident to notice what I am doing. Plus I just don't care.
I can't explain my obsession with accidents, but my twisted mind has always enjoyed the bent and crinkled metal and the emotions of the people involved. It's so real.
In the distance, through my lens I could see a gathering of people on the right. They seemed to be discussing the accident, which was directly in the middle of the lane. Nobody was crying. Nobody was screaming.
In my opinion, it was the ninny in the Mercedes who was at fault. The Maxima which plowed into the driver's side of the Mercedes was clearly on the road, travelling in a forward direction. The Mercedes was quite obviously pulling out from a little roadlet that intersected the main road.
It was the pulling out of the Mercedes which caused the T-bone action to take place. The Maxima suffered a munched front-end and some hood-bendage while the Mercedes was victim to metal crumplage, hood popage and a broken wheel.
Did I experience some good timing on Sunday? I wonder if I had been 5 minutes earlier, if I'd be crying over my DeLorean instead of eating yummy cobs of corn.