The Crash of 2007

It was a bight sunny Saturday morning in May and I had just dropped off the son of a friend and colleague at his wedding destination. I had arranged to make two runs that day and was returning from Eckington, NE Derbyshire to pick up the bridesmaids from the nearby village of Killamarsh. As I slowed at a junction to make a tight left turn, a car hit me from behind at a fair speed. The road is quite twisty here and has limited visibility due to an undulating nature. This car was clearly over the restricted speed limit and could not stop in the distance visible to him. My heart was in my mouth after I heard the squeal of tyres and looking in the mirror, realised at once he could not stop and that there was going to be a collision. I braced myself for a huge bang and waited. In fact there was no bang, just a dull shudder as the rear of the DB absorbed the impact. I sat there motionless for what seemed like an eternity, quite simply I did not have the heart to step outside and view the damage. Eventually I mustered the courage to open the door and get out. The car looked terrible, a square-on impact, with the rear wings and boot absorbing the majority of the impact. I then turned my eyes to the car behind and noticed the driver slumped on the steering wheel. As I walked back towards him, a thought occurred to me; would I hit him or help him? I did in fact help him out the car, he was not injured but bemoaning the fact he had hit an Aston Martin. His Citroen car was a write off. After pulling the rear wings clear of the tyres, I started the engine and gingerly drove the car backwards into a field entrance and off the main road. The road was covered in oil and water and the Citroen immoveable, causing traffic to build up in both directions. This was made worse by people getting out their cars and walking across to take photographs on their phones of a damaged DB. Unbelievable behaviour. 

Eventually the police arrived.

They coned the area off and put a diversion route in place, before a breakdown truck eventually arrived and moved the stricken Citroen. The police had cautioned and interviewed us separately in the rear of their patrol car, but it was interesting to note that by now the car driver had accused me of reversing into him. After telephoning my insurance company, I waited for the breakdown truck to come and take the poor car away. I walked and waited, I sat on a bench and waited and I just waited. Again I rang the insurance company requesting a breakdown truck be sent. In the meantime I witnessed some of the worst behaviour possible. On a couple of occasions after seeing the distraught car, the driver of a passing car pulled over and made a much closer inspection. It was only that I was sat slightly out of their view and catching them unawares, that I realised their aim was to remove some souvenir. If that was bad, the endless visits by traffic officers and policemen to survey the damaged car was unforgiveable. I engaged in conversation with one of the officers involved, who duly informed me that he had just come on shift duty and he wanted to see a damaged Aston Martin. A great shame they had nothing better to do with their time.

The breakdown lorry eventually arrived and the DB was hauled aboard. As we set off back to Sheffield the driver informed me he would take the car to a salvage yard and from there a taxi would take me home. I don’t know why, but alarm bells started ringing. I then remembered what friend had said who frequently dealt with damage-repairable vehicles. He said in the event of an accident, under no circumstances let them take your car to a salvage yard. With this ringing in my ears I insisted the breakdown lorry take the car and myself to our home address. After a heated discussion with the driver’s boss this was agreed, although I had no idea what I would do with the car or how I could get it off the road. The car was swiftly unloaded on the road outside our house and the truck departed. Once again the interest and sadness generated amongst my neighbours was considerable. Harry from across the road cried. Most however kept diplomatically out of the way. I had to remove the rear silencers from the damaged exhaust system to stand a chance of reversing the car up the drive and into the garage. I bent still further the deformed bodywork to ensure that it was completely free of the rear wheels and tyres. It sounded like a Lancaster bomber, but I managed to get the car into the garage at the first attempt. I then went inside to pine.

As I reflected on the day’s events two things occurred to me.

Firstly how lucky it was that the bridesmaids were not in the car at the time. I made up my mind there and then I would never use the car again for this purpose. Secondly, what good advice my friend had given in insisting that the car should not be taken to a salvage yard. The importance of this advice was only to become apparent with time.

Reaching an agreement over the insurance claim was a long and drawn-out affair. I was adamant right from the start that the car would go back to Aston Martin in Newport Pagnell, as the repairs were far too great for me to entertain. The car had only ever been worked on at the factory or by myself here in Sheffield and I wished this to continue. I also refused to make any claim against my insurance company, as the accident was clearly not my fault. This delayed the acceptance of liability considerably, but I felt this approach was right and proper. Aston Martin then collected the car and it was taken to Works Service for assessment.

Aston Martin Works Service - 2007

Following the estimation of costs in June 2007, there was a further delay as the insurance company and Aston Martin Lagonda Ltd haggled over the cost of the repairs. In the end an agreement was reached and repair work on the car commenced in December 2007.

Aston Martin Heritage Centre

The car had a recorded mileage of 38,939 by the time it was returned to Newport Pagnell following that fateful day.