Years ago, while driving to work early one Saturday morning after an ice storm, I was involved in an automobile accident. The road was like the frozen Alaskan river used as a highway for tractor trailers in the winter. It was covered with at least an inch of solid ice, and I was creeping along at twenty miles per hour when a a taxi cab roaring to DFW Airport in an effort to get in the line there to pick up a fare slammed into the back of my car. I was not hurt, but the trunk and back seat of my sporty capri looked like an accordion, and my car was totaled.
The taxi driver was at fault. There was no question about it, and the cab company did not argue. It was self-insured, so in resolving the issue about how to replace my car, I dealt with its owners rather than an insurance adjuster. I remember sitting in an huge box of an office with no windows, lit only by a dim desk lamp. Two seedy looking men, sweaty and bulging out of their greenish, pin-striped three piece suits negotiated with me for the settlement of my claim.
Looking back, I know they were nervous. Even though I was there without a lawyer, they eyed each other from across the table, one folding and unfolding his hands, the other pacing behind him. I now see they were fully expecting me to claim some hidden injury (there was none) or demand a huge payment just in case something developed later. I didn't. I thought I was being assertive by insisting that they pay me the full retail value of my car.
When they heard my proposal, they couldn't pay me fast enough. They scribbled out a check in the halo shining on the dimly lit desk and slid it across the desk to me along with a "full and complete release of any and all claims, known or unknown from the beginning of time" to sign.
I signed the release as they leaned over watching every letter of my signature, took the money and immediately used it to buy junk silver at $6 an ounce, preparing for the Armagedon so many were anticipating in those days.
Over the next few weeks, I watched the price of silver it rise to what, something like $80 per ounce. I felt hugely successful and coincidentally met one of the Hunt brothers at a party in Dallas (remember they were accused of manipulating the silver market to cause the astronomical rise in value). At $80 an ounce, I got even greedier and believed what others were saying, that it was headed for $200 per ounce. Well you know what happened while I was counting my paper profits. Another crash.
This event is true and led to Rule No. 17 (hire a lawyer) and Rule No. 18 (sell high, but well before you think its peaked).
The taxi driver was at fault. There was no question about it, and the cab company did not argue. It was self-insured, so in resolving the issue about how to replace my car, I dealt with its owners rather than an insurance adjuster. I remember sitting in an huge box of an office with no windows, lit only by a dim desk lamp. Two seedy looking men, sweaty and bulging out of their greenish, pin-striped three piece suits negotiated with me for the settlement of my claim.
Looking back, I know they were nervous. Even though I was there without a lawyer, they eyed each other from across the table, one folding and unfolding his hands, the other pacing behind him. I now see they were fully expecting me to claim some hidden injury (there was none) or demand a huge payment just in case something developed later. I didn't. I thought I was being assertive by insisting that they pay me the full retail value of my car.
When they heard my proposal, they couldn't pay me fast enough. They scribbled out a check in the halo shining on the dimly lit desk and slid it across the desk to me along with a "full and complete release of any and all claims, known or unknown from the beginning of time" to sign.
I signed the release as they leaned over watching every letter of my signature, took the money and immediately used it to buy junk silver at $6 an ounce, preparing for the Armagedon so many were anticipating in those days.
Over the next few weeks, I watched the price of silver it rise to what, something like $80 per ounce. I felt hugely successful and coincidentally met one of the Hunt brothers at a party in Dallas (remember they were accused of manipulating the silver market to cause the astronomical rise in value). At $80 an ounce, I got even greedier and believed what others were saying, that it was headed for $200 per ounce. Well you know what happened while I was counting my paper profits. Another crash.
This event is true and led to Rule No. 17 (hire a lawyer) and Rule No. 18 (sell high, but well before you think its peaked).
©2007 David R. Childress. All Rights Reserved.
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