[STORY] Drive safe, Ade

Last month, I learned the hard way that life doesn’t ask for permission before flipping you upside down.

It started on a random Tuesday morning. I was running late for work — again — and speeding down Awolowo Road like my rent depended on it (it kinda did).

I had just switched lanes when I heard the sound that still haunts me —

CRASH!

My front bumper slammed into a Toyota Corolla that had braked suddenly.

For two seconds, everything froze. Then came the shouting.

“Are you blind?!” the driver yelled, stepping out in a rumpled suit, clutching his neck dramatically.

My heart sank.

The sun was blazing, people were staring, and my hands shook as I stepped out to assess the damage.

The Corolla’s bumper was cracked, mine was hanging off like it was begging for retirement.

I apologized over and over.

“I’m really sorry, sir. I’ll fix it. Please don’t call the police.”

He stared at me coldly, then said,

“You’ll hear from my insurance company.”

I didn’t even know what that meant.

By evening, I got an email.

It was from his lawyer, a personal injury attorney named Mrs. Kola.

The message said:

“Our client, Mr. Ade, sustained neck injuries and will be filing an insurance claim for medical bills, emotional distress, and loss of work time. Kindly forward your auto insurance details.”

I froze.

I had insurance.

At least, I thought I did.

I dialed my auto insurance company faster than I’d ever called anyone.

“Hi, this is Pelumi. I need to file a claim. I had an accident.”

The rep replied politely,

“Okay sir, what’s your policy number?”

I gave it to her. A pause followed.

“Sir… your policy expired three weeks ago.”

I went silent.

The next few days were chaos. I visited a legal aid office, searched for cheap legal representation, even tried to reach out to Mr. Ade directly to settle.

He ignored me.

Online, I read everything — “how to handle car accident claims,” “what to do when your insurance lapses,” “how to get legal advice without paying a lawyer.”

I even joined a Reddit thread where someone said, “Bro, if your insurance expired, they can sue you personally.”

I couldn’t sleep for nights.

A week later, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

“Hello, am I speaking to Pelumi?”

“Yes.”

“This is Mr. Ade. I got your messages.”

I braced myself.

“Look, my lawyer wanted to take this far, but honestly, I just wanted the repairs covered. The pain was real, but the drama isn’t worth it.”

I was shocked.

“Wait… you’re not suing me?”

He chuckled.

“No. My insurance provider already paid me. They handled the medical bills too. But I wanted to check — are you okay?”

That question hit deeper than it should have.

I told him I was fine, just broke and embarrassed.

“Then we’re even,” he said. “Be safe next time.”

And just like that, the case was closed.

The next morning, I walked straight into my insurance company’s office.

No small talk.

“I want to renew my auto insurance policy — for five years this time.”

The lady behind the desk smiled knowingly.

“You’re not the first to learn the hard way, sir.”

I left the office with my new policy coverage and a weird sense of gratitude.

Because truth be told, that accident didn’t just wreck my car — it repaired my perspective.

I now tell my friends every chance I get:

“Don’t play with your insurance policy or legal documents. They’re not just papers — they’re protection.”

But the real twist came two weeks later.

I got an email from Mrs. Kola — the lawyer.

“Mr. Ade passed away last night from a cardiac arrest unrelated to the accident. He spoke highly of your honesty before he died.”

I sat there, staring at the message.

I never met him again. But somehow, I owed that man more than just an apology — I owed him a lesson in humanity.

And every time I start my car now, I whisper,

“Drive safe, Ade.”