Ah, sixth period. Free period. Last period of the day. Chance for this high schooler to be free, free, free... The girl with whom I share my schedule and I decided to go for a walk today, since I forgot the cards at home.

After a quick diversion to drop our respective bags off at a convenient locker, we went out and started a-walking. So... there I was, walking along 14th St, somewhere in the vicinity of Salmon St, with Schedulegirl, both of us becoming increasingly moist as we went because it was raining heavily, as is Oregon's wont. Much to our surprise, a white car driving along 14th was struck on the rear right-hand sector by a large red SUV, in the intersection we had just finished crossing.

The white car did a nice 540° spin on the slick asphalt, and came to a stunned stop a little further down the road, while the SUV, hardly slowed down by the accident sped off, never to be seen by us again...

The driver of the car, whom we shall dub Mrs. White, spent a few minutes in silent reflection of the situation. Schedulegirl and I watched the scene, dumbfounded. Mrs. White got out of the car, pulled out her cell phone, and started telling someone that she "wouldn't be able to make it" to something or other. Meanwhile, Schedulegirl and I went over to the scene of the crime, to look for evidence.

A few bits of car were in the empty intersection; bits of black plastic and a few chips of paint, I think. Schedulegirl picked up one particularly large piece of black plastic, and looked at it for a few moments. "Ooooh," we said, and showed it to Mrs. White. "That's mine," she said.

When we compared it to hers, though, it clearly didn't match. After she got off the phone, we showed it to her again. "Ooooh," she said, and gladly took it off our hands, even though it was grimy and a little dented.

She called the police on the non-emergency line - after some waiting, she was able to report to a police officer what had happened, and, with a grin on her face, who had done it. You see, when the guy in the SUV had hit Mrs. White had managed to knock his license plate off in the process, leaving it in the intersection for us to find.

After Mrs. White finished her call to the police, and we had made sure she would be ok, we went back to the school to spend a few amusing minutes watching some friends to drama things.

And the moral of the story? Don't be a fool and try to do a hit and run, even if you do have a sporty new SUV. It'll catch up with you.

Few things piss me off more than idiots in their big-ass SUV's, especially since I drive a small Honda that's just slightly older than myself and has clearly seen better days. Allow me to share a recent horror story of mine.

To start off, I live in (slight retch) Stanwood Washington, a more corn-fed, pissant, podunk town you will not find in the northwest. Now being so "rural" for lack of a more colorful term, means two things. Narrow, winding roads with 45 mph speed limits, and no streetlights to help illuminate said deathtraps.
I was out one night after dark, going to a nearby deli (if one can call 15 miles of dark road "nearby") and driving along a chaming, pretzel-shaped morass of concrete called Norman road, the terminus of which, winds it's way up a steep hill to a fork, although to be more accurate, it's really Norman that forks off the main road, leaving a good stretch of road behind you, curving out of sight. One must take this road on faith even during the day, since the fork leading off behind you bends around a hill and out of sight fairly quickly.

I had just arived at said fork when Stump-Jumping Jethro pulls up behind me in his gigantic "penis truck" SUV, my rear-view mirror shows little else besides a massive grill and a set of vibrant purple testes hanging from the hood, I felt like I was caught in a transformers prison movie... His high beams are set for kill and are blazing straight into my eyes, bad enough as that is, it also renders everything around me pitch black. I try to see is anyone was heading my way so I can pull out and get away from the freak of testosterone poisoning behind me, but Cletus the Hayseed is impatient (what a shock) he lays on his horn and even goes so far as to try and nudge my poor car into the intersection. I hit the gas and hope for the best, fortunately there was no oncoming traffic, but Billy-Joe-Bob was on my ass all the way to my destination, blaring his horn the whole time.

Look guys, if you need a big truck (NEED, like for work of something) that's all well and good, but don't get one just so you can bumble around the road trying to be invincible.
AND FOR GODS' SAKE STOP PUTTING BALLS ON THEM!! That's just wrong on so many levels.

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