Dear Asshole Terneus,
I am not writing you for sympathy or for sorrow. I am writing to you because it's been exactly one year, one month, seventeen days, and two minutes since you stole my soul and crushed my face. I am writing to you to tell you of your horrendous crime you will never be charged with or pursued in because you work for corporate America. I am writing to inform you that without a conscience, you irrevocably broke a poor man's heart, who was only minding his own business. How can you represent a company who's motto is "Relax, We take care of you," when you only took care of your customer and yourself, without any regards to the only victim involved. How is it the only victim in the accident is a rider going straight down a street, yet is charged with 30 percent of the blame. 30 percent of the blame is not 100 percent innocent, yet I am the one who lost everything.
By California law, it is legal for motorcycle riders to split lanes up to twenty five miles an hour, in traffic, in no traffic. Spoken to California Highway Patrol and Sacramento Police Department both told me you, the insurance agent, is only trying to push blame on the non-client party and protect the client party. Your client is the most uncoordinated, oblivious, and mistake-prone driver who forgot to buckle her children up in the car seat. Because cars in the traffic waved to your client to go on ahead, does not make it okay for her to turn if she "recognizes a motorcycle coming." And to neglect the fact that I was legally riding tells me that you, your client, and the company you represent, are all shameful, disrespectful, bitch-made, trucks who only care for numbers and what your client can afford. Tell me, why is it the guy on the motorcycle gets deducted 30 percent of everything because he was riding straight?
You can't. Plain and simple. If a person is riding straight, they always have the right away. Does not matter if there is traffic and everyone else is stopped, The rider rides safely because that is all the rider can do. We don't have four doors or four wheels protecting our bodies. We don't have the luxury of airbags or seat belts if we are hit. Like that afternoon, we have the misfortune of flying onto car hoods, free-falling in mid-air, and tumbling to break our bones. Sure, it is the risk of riding. And apparently, you are too uncoordinated, retarded and chicken-shit to understand or ride on such a beautiful machine. Because if you did, you would understand that 100 percent of the blame is on your client and on you.
With your decision, you took away a boy's dream, soul, and life. You wouldn't understand because you are apparently not an automotive enthusiast. You apparently aren't anything but an employee at an agency, who writes reports, pushes papers, and speaks about fault all day. Once, not even once, have you looked in the mirror and realized that you are the bitch who never accepts the blame yourself. It is you who does not treasure real life's sentimental value. Instead, you throw around petty cash you believe will suffice the client and victims. Three thousand dollars is all you offer for such a pristine, perfect piece of beauty. For all the pain suffered in the hospital and chiropractor, For all the hours spent at home instead of working and earning money, and for all the countless hours I could've been riding... Three thousand is what you and your little company comes up with.
Shame on you. Shame on you for being a bitch. Shame on you for fully and completely, not understanding value. Shame on you for under-cutting one of the sexiest two-wheelers of that year. Shame on you for being you and taking a boy's dream. You and your in-decision is a crime and one day, will punish you like a curse of cancer. Three thousand dollars is all you gave for something that had more value to me than life itself. Three thousand dollars is all you gave for someone who suffered painless, workless, ride-less hours for the next two years. You are a criminal. Shame on you.