Written by JB jnr
It took an hour to get out of Bucharest and nearly 3 hours to make the 150km journey up to the city of Brasov (see Dad's entry on the city).
We were in the non too salubrious suburbs of Brasov (pronounced Brashofv), stopped at traffic lights and all of a sudden our car lurches forward and sideways, and my head hits the side window and then hard on to the head rest. Dad swears and I cannot believe we have been driven into. A car crash, in a hire car in the middle of Romania – bar serious injury there isn't much worse than can happen on holiday.
I am a bit dazed and in shock, head hurts a bit and so does my neck but I am fine, Dad is fine also and so we get out of the car and are confronted with a 3 car accident, where a woman in a Skoda has hit a Ford and then crashed into my hire car, we have a crumpled rear end and flat tire. I don't understand a word anyone is saying, the whole road is queuing up with cars and everyone is honking their horn and this is in the middle of a busy main road.
The woman who has hit me (Angela) asks if I am OK and says she has called the police, as in Romania any accident must have the police present. They arrive in 5 minutes and all the cars are pushed off the road. Angela tells me we have to go to the police station and give statements, her friend will give me a lift and my father must stay with our car and luggage.
Amazingly everyone is quite calm, no-one is shouting, I am playing quite dumb as I have no idea what happened, so just happy to go along with what the police tell me to do. I was more concerned about leaving Dad on the side of the road in this dreadful suburb not speaking any Romanian for what could have been hours....and it was getting dark....and we were in Transylvania! I had visions of coming back to him in his boxers on the pavement and blue from having the blood sucked out of him.
As your parents get older you feel this sense of responsibility for them especially when they are on your turf, traveling to remote and unusual places, I was genuinely more worried about him and how he would fare as the sun set and it got dark than I was about the car or me.
I call the hire car company and tell them the good news, then jump in the strangers car with 3 Brides of Dracula including the one who rear-ended me) and head to the police station, we nearly have 3 more crashes on the way, the state of the driving was so bad and I was with a local! At the police station there are no computer systems everything must be hand written in triplicate, I need everything translated and every 5 minutes everyone has to leave the room to have a smoke (I have been amazed at how many people smoke here and in Hungary!) Actually I was very impressed at how efficiently the police handled the whole situation.
Finally after 2 hours of paper work and breathalyser tests (not that long really) I am given the documents to say it was not my fault and the hire company can get the car fixed (in Romania the police decide who is to blame not the insurers) and then on the way out the woman who caused the fuss says she is sorry for spoiling my holiday......very sweet! Good job I cant say you stupid blind cow in Romanian!
The Brides of Dracula agree to give me a lift to the hotel (where Dad in the meantime has cleverly managed to change the tyre and limp back to the hotel) and on the way back I pick up from the smattering of Romanian I have learnt, that they have recently returned from Italy on holiday and so speak some Italian to them to which they all respond fluently and we have a great laugh as the whole process could have been so much easier if I had said I spoken Italian.....well sorry for it not crossing my mind earlier!
After you have been pummeled by Olnj the Hungarian masseuse, you can't let a bit of whiplash and a car crash ruin your holiday!
It took an hour to get out of Bucharest and nearly 3 hours to make the 150km journey up to the city of Brasov (see Dad's entry on the city).
We were in the non too salubrious suburbs of Brasov (pronounced Brashofv), stopped at traffic lights and all of a sudden our car lurches forward and sideways, and my head hits the side window and then hard on to the head rest. Dad swears and I cannot believe we have been driven into. A car crash, in a hire car in the middle of Romania – bar serious injury there isn't much worse than can happen on holiday.
I am a bit dazed and in shock, head hurts a bit and so does my neck but I am fine, Dad is fine also and so we get out of the car and are confronted with a 3 car accident, where a woman in a Skoda has hit a Ford and then crashed into my hire car, we have a crumpled rear end and flat tire. I don't understand a word anyone is saying, the whole road is queuing up with cars and everyone is honking their horn and this is in the middle of a busy main road.The woman who has hit me (Angela) asks if I am OK and says she has called the police, as in Romania any accident must have the police present. They arrive in 5 minutes and all the cars are pushed off the road. Angela tells me we have to go to the police station and give statements, her friend will give me a lift and my father must stay with our car and luggage.
Amazingly everyone is quite calm, no-one is shouting, I am playing quite dumb as I have no idea what happened, so just happy to go along with what the police tell me to do. I was more concerned about leaving Dad on the side of the road in this dreadful suburb not speaking any Romanian for what could have been hours....and it was getting dark....and we were in Transylvania! I had visions of coming back to him in his boxers on the pavement and blue from having the blood sucked out of him.
As your parents get older you feel this sense of responsibility for them especially when they are on your turf, traveling to remote and unusual places, I was genuinely more worried about him and how he would fare as the sun set and it got dark than I was about the car or me.
I call the hire car company and tell them the good news, then jump in the strangers car with 3 Brides of Dracula including the one who rear-ended me) and head to the police station, we nearly have 3 more crashes on the way, the state of the driving was so bad and I was with a local! At the police station there are no computer systems everything must be hand written in triplicate, I need everything translated and every 5 minutes everyone has to leave the room to have a smoke (I have been amazed at how many people smoke here and in Hungary!) Actually I was very impressed at how efficiently the police handled the whole situation.
Finally after 2 hours of paper work and breathalyser tests (not that long really) I am given the documents to say it was not my fault and the hire company can get the car fixed (in Romania the police decide who is to blame not the insurers) and then on the way out the woman who caused the fuss says she is sorry for spoiling my holiday......very sweet! Good job I cant say you stupid blind cow in Romanian!
The Brides of Dracula agree to give me a lift to the hotel (where Dad in the meantime has cleverly managed to change the tyre and limp back to the hotel) and on the way back I pick up from the smattering of Romanian I have learnt, that they have recently returned from Italy on holiday and so speak some Italian to them to which they all respond fluently and we have a great laugh as the whole process could have been so much easier if I had said I spoken Italian.....well sorry for it not crossing my mind earlier!
After you have been pummeled by Olnj the Hungarian masseuse, you can't let a bit of whiplash and a car crash ruin your holiday!
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