Kama Got T-Boned and the Other Car Took Off

With a week until Christmas, I headed out to take care of a few last-minute gifts, kid-free this past Friday evening. I was alone in my Volvo station wagon traveling south on Mason Avenue. There were a lot of cars going both directions. I noticed an older model dark-colored Jeep Cherokee, looking awfully eager to get out of the parking lot there by Recycled Cycles and by the 1933 brewery. Sure enough, he must have only been paying attention to those cars headed northbound. He went, as I was right in front of him, slamming right into the passenger side rear of my car, sending me into the other lane. Luckily, at that moment, there was no car for me to crash into.

I pulled off, turned my hazards on and waited for the other car to come back to make sure I was okay, to apologize, to exchange information, to show some human decency. It never happened. A hit and run. What a sad, pathetic human. I have my suspicions as to location and reason as to why they didn't want to come back. There are witnesses that were kind enough to make sure I was OK and the police report has been filed. My car will be fine. My back and my hip will be better with the help of a chiropractor. My nerves are shaken. Thank goodness my kids weren't in the car. They would have been terrified.