In every sense.

I’m driving the thing that is not a  redRam 1500 with a Hemi and a touchscreen that I REALLY want car to the office. Around the corner, I see a parked Camry with a critical ass implosion. It’s like my neighbors’ kids after one of their constant DR calls.  Plus it’s a Camry: a crash is an improvement.

oddly familiar

But I keep driving. Slowly. The debris field around the car is unsettling.  Then I remember.  I know this story.  I lived it.  It’s actually never that far out of mind.

Oh yeah. THAT.

What are the odds that some drunk did a similar hit and run 23 years later. Hmm.

So I turn the corner, on the way to the gas station.

Oh Look! It’s a Toyota Matrix with equal and opposite damage!

Fancy Parking

OK, this is too much. Time for the camera. I am either saving the Camry from a dumbass, plus the grief that I carry, or I am fucking up a conspiracy to hide a DUI/hit and run. In each case, I still get a story to run.

Jesus! Look at that wheel.  That is NOT how you play curbhunter!

Racing in the Bilbo’s parking lot, were we?

Maybe it will buff out

Now it all fits!  Hopefully, a call to the local PD will get this straightened out for both of them.  Karma will be happy that two generic Toyotas are pulled from the commuting gene pool. I can be happy that some dumbass doesn’t get away with it, because of those meddling kids your author.

(Seriously, Mr. hit and run – there were two much closer unused alleys where you could have rolled it. We would have never seen it.)