It was a Saturday night after a long day of walking around the filthy holes of the city. I had a bottle of beer with a friend at one of the those run-down stalls that dare to call themselves bars. I decided to call it a night before the next unworthy indie band played.
I went to the parking lot and started my car. A public utility jeep hit me from behind while I was backing out of the dark parking lot. I was shocked, I couldn't move. It was a hit and run. I drove a bit and pulled over to the nearest well-lighted spot.
I stepped out and checked my car for the damage: the back bumper was bent and the right panel was dragging down the pavement. A guy was walking on the side-walk and saw the ruin which was my crushed back bumper. I said "hey" and asked for help. He said he'd come back.
A few moments later he walked over to me with a thick plastic string. He helped me tie the bumper just enough so I could drive it home in one piece. When it was done, I thanked the guy and drove away. My hands were trembling all night, it was a wonder how it controlled the steering wheel. Adrenalin kept me going until I finally got home.
This is what everyone knows about the accident.
No comments:
Post a Comment