an accident

I had been driving a Toyota Highlander for over 5 years. Happy with it, everything ran smooth and swell, and I kept it in great shape, as if I would keep it forever. I might as well do, except I met my childhood friend Sunny one day last month when he came back from his factories in China and Vietnam and asked me for a little get-together at his office.

“Sell me your car,” he practically yelled at me when he saw me and my Highlander. Why? “This car is ideal for my factory in Vietnam. It’s a 7-seater, in good shape, isn’t it?” he said. “I’ll pay you Kelley's Blue Book full price for it,” he added.

My first reaction was bewilderment and rejection: Why would I part with my good, old-but-still-shiny-looking, reliable SUV and replace it with… what? I have to admit, when it comes to cars, I am not one of those who always dream of or plan on what their next fancy one would be.

But a thought had snuck into my mind. Long story short, I started shopping for a new car after I confirmed with Sunny I would sell and he would buy my Highlander to export to Vietnam as he proposed, and finally landed my eyes on and purchased a BMW X3, a “German engineered” cross-over that brings back the driving sensation I used to have with a Mercedes I owned a few years ago. The funny twist of event was my Highlander ended up not sold to Sunny, because the Vietnamese government told us at the last minute that they won’t allow import of any cars older than 5 years (and mine was just 3 months over the edge), but traded in to the BMW dealer I bought my X3 from.

All is dandy and fun, nonetheless. I enjoy the handling and the bells and whistles that come with a new car, and my wife loves the look and the nice LED lights that automatically shine up before doors are opened.

Then a couple of weekends ago, we had a little party at our home with some friends of new and old, and we decided to go to the nearby beach for a stroll. I had in my new BMW full load of 4 ladies. Yakety merrily they chatted all the way, and just a couple of blocks before we reached our destination, on an ascending slope of the busy Pacific Coast Highway, the car gave up on me: All of a sudden I lost power, it couldn’t accelerate, and started slowing down. Within seconds all I could do was veer the car to the left-turn lane, where it stopped completely, and the navigation screen lit with the message “Drive train malfunction…”

My friend, who drove another car following me with another full load of people, called me from his cell, asking me what’s going on. I told him I had car trouble and asked him to drop off his passengers at the beach park ahead then come back to pick up mine. Then I pressed the “SOS” button on the headliner right above my driver seat, pretty James-Bond-movie like, and made an “Emergency Request” call, as the complimentary BMW road side assistance service is named.

The BMW operator got online right away and identified me and my vehicle and where I was, then instructed me to stay there for a tow truck to come in about 30 minutes.

A Good Samaritan on his bike approached me and asked if I could put the car in neutral gear so he could help push it out of the middle of the road. “Otherwise those cars are going to hit you from behind,” he said, pointing to the phalanx of vehicles whooshing by. Unfortunately the gear wouldn’t shift because it’s electronically locked dead already, so I thanked him and he left. A police patrol came minutes later, and after a few friendly chats with me, understanding what happened, he summoned another police car, whose officer had on his uniform inscribed “Community Service” and started putting those little red fiery torches on the road to block out the lane, potentially preventing cars from hitting me and my car…

I got a call the next day from the BMW dealership where my car was towed. “What was wrong with your car?” he asked. I told him it quit on me right in the middle of the road and the engine wouldn’t run and the transmission wouldn’t shift. “Well it’s running perfectly fine here now after I put a couple gallons of gas in its tank,” said the worker. I couldn't believe it. The car’s fuel was at its tank bottom yesterday, as its gauge indicated, I knew, and though I thought about refueling it in the morning I got side tracked and decided to do it later, as often the case. But could it be as simple a cause as that? Don’t the gauges usually lie when it tells you you have no gas in the tank when in fact you still have a good one or two gallons left to go for another 20, 30 miles or so?

I picked up my X3 and told my friend about this the next day. He laughed and postulated maybe it was indeed the case: that my car was running very low on fuel, and when it went on an uphill climb as happened that day, it had trouble siphoning up the fuel from the tank due to the tilt, therefore it died.

The above picture was taken by the young community service police officer who spread the safety torches on the road for me. I joked with him that if I post this photo on my Facebook or Twitter page, “it would be bad publicity for BMW,” and he laughed in total agreement with me. But no, BMW, I bear no ill will against you and am still in love with my new X3, and your emergency service is every bit you advertise it to be. Just hope I won't have to use it any more.

I have to apologize to those ladies in my car for the scare, though. But rest assured, I had already got my earful of condemnation from my wife, even for the yet to be 100% proven theory that the cause of this (unnecessary) accident was due to the negligence on my part!