Right of way?

It was a cold and rainy night. After medical appointments in Toronto, I headed north. But not before I went down my old avenue, where I lived for 12 years before moving away this past August.

Turning onto Yonge Street, I found the remnants of rush hour. With my left blinker on, I gingerly changed lanes. From first to second. The visibility was so poor, I even rolled down the window to check my blind spot, besides using rear and side-view mirrors. I went from second to third or centre lane. And with each move, I saw no obstruction. Nearly completing total entry into the centre lane ... BAM! I got sideswiped by a public transport bus coming in from the left-turn lane. It scraped across my driver's door, knocked off my side mirror, blew out my front tire, crunched the rim, and strongly dented the area above the wheel well.

I didn't know the extent of the damages. I blanked out the worst of them. That's why I was surprised to see, moments later, revolving lights in my rear view mirror. They hurt my eyes. And when I realized they were from a tow truck, parked behind me, I wondered, why do I need a tow truck. Its driver knocked at my window. I rolled it down as the man asked, "Are you all right?"

"I think so," I replied.

Then the bus driver in rain gear came up to my window. All I could think of was to say, "You were driving awfully fast." He replied: "I have the right of way."

I was puzzled as he walked away, back to his bus.

About an hour or so later, a very decent policeman knocked on my window to tell me that there had been many accidents that night, that it might take longer for the reporting police to arrive. He helped the bus driver shepherd the passengers off the bus. They walked across the street, where another bus took them to their destination.

A white TTC car arrived and parked in front of the bus. A short female in what appeared to be a uniform raincoat got out. She and the bus driver began talking. I wondered if she was there to bolster the bus driver's morale. Or defence.

About five hours had passed. I remembered I had my camera. And though I was too shaken to aggressively document, I took it out to capture the views from my front windshield, using the dashboard as a tripod. The exercise calmed me.

I tried to get out, but the driver's door was blocked from the force of impact. So I squeezing over the cup holders between the bucket seats, and opened the door on the passenger's side. Once out, I surveyed the scene of the accident, noticing that the bus still had a good chunk of its back end in the median lane. The bus driver had stopped on a diagonal in front of me, almost as though he were cutting me off.

I went up to the tow truck driver and asked what he thought. He confirmed my view, which gave me some relief that I was not at fault.

Another two hours went by. I crossed Yonge Street to go to the bathroom at a Tim Horton's coffee shop. By the time I returned, the reporting police had finally arrived - about five hours after the accident. A female cop was talking to the bus driver and the woman in a TTC uniform. Something told me I was being set up as a scapegoat.

My suspicions gained ground. The young female cop asked me briefly what happened as she handled my documents with remnants of a French manicure on half-bitten nails. When I mentioned that the bus barrelled down the median lane, she retorted, "Oh, really?" I was stunned by her attitude.

She returned to the cruiser. I approached its driver's window as she was writing my data in D1. Meaning, the first position for drivers on the police accident report.

That choice by the police is critical. For whomever is placed in first position on the accident report, will see a rise in their insurance premium. So much for the euphemism of "No fault".

How do I know this? I used to deal with regulatory issues surrounding financial institutions, among them, the Insurance Bureau of Canada. They're the overseers for property and casualty companies. And it was through Alex Kennedy, then the legal assessor at the IBC, that I came across this little-known nugget.

Most times, the position of drivers on an accident report, as designated by the police, is legitimate and according to the rules of the road. But sometimes the choice is questionable. Take the following case.

Around 1995, I was involved in a hit-and-run accident. A large truck was barreling down the median lane to avoid rush-hour traffic on a Friday afternoon. The driver didn't see me stationed in the median, patiently waiting for a good moment to enter the traffic stream. He hit me - hard - totalling the front of the car. Then sped away. I was stunned. Fortunately it was just after 5 p.m. on a summer day. As a result, angels were more visible. Three came up to my car window to offer me their business card. Each had jotted down the number of the licence plate of the truck that had taken off after impact. There are good people out there.

When the police officer arrived, he invited me into his car while he wrote up the accident report. Asking me for information, I produced it, along with the number of the license plate, as given to me by three witnesses. What happened next stunned me again. The officer was putting me in D1.

Angrily, I asked him why he was putting me in first position on the accident report. I also reminded him of the three witnesses who had given me the licence plate number of the truck driver who had sped off. The officer was annoyed. But I wouldn't budge. He called uncle; put me in the second position on the accident report.

As a result, my premiums were unaffected. The fault was with the independent truck driver.

Months later, the issue was settled in court. In the hallway, that same police officer came up to me, and told me: "Drive more carefully, next time."

Whoa. Did I cause him to lose a commission, perhaps? Inquiring minds would love to know.

But I digress. Getting back to the accident the night of November 24th, it seemed as though the officer who wrote up the report disregarded the positioning of bus to my impacted car. So I wondered: what was behind her decision to place me in first position? And why did she tell me, brutally: "You're at fault; you're in D1. Now, drive more carefully, next time"?

There was no time for answers — then — as the tow truck hoisted my car.


I can only hope the insurance company is fair in assessing fault. They have the photographic images, and they have the contact particulars for the tow truck driver — my only witness. In the meantime, I'm trying to get over the mental muddle I've been in.

Should problems persist, however, I'll consider legal assistance. It's unfortunate that one cannot rely on the police to properly interpret certain rights. After all, there are cops out there that protect the rights of some more than others.

In the meantime, I can only offer a simple moral: Don't drive without a camera in the glove compartment of your car. It might be your only witness. If you don't die first.