My Bad...Not Exactly

Alright. Let me first apologize for this post, as I hate to use this space to editorialize -- wait, what the fuck am I talking about? I always editorialize here. Let me clarify. I don't typically like to use this space to editorialize about my own life, but I will break that trend for once.

As of today, I am no longer an auto accident virgin. On my way home from work, I was clipped by some fucker in a sports car -- a cream, late-model Nissan 300ZX to be exact. Here's what happened: I'm approaching an intersection in the left turn lane. As I approach the intersection, there is a side street off to the right. In fact, here's a map of the area. I'm traveling south on Orange Grove, and the side street is Arroyo Terrace. So as I approach the intersection, I am the only person in the left turn lane. In addition, I cannot see the side street as there are large cars (read suburban tanks) waiting for the red light. Suddenly, I see a cream colored Nissan 300ZX pulling out, making a left turn from Arroyo onto Orange Grove. Naturally, I lay on my horn, but does our antihero stop? Fuck no. As I lay on my brakes, he floors it. My beauty was hit on the passenger side rear wheel, quarter panel, and passenger door. And I'm fairly certian he was accelerating, as his leather fender bra was wedged into my rear passenger wheel, between the rim and the tire.

So there I am, car turned perpendicular to traffic, trying futily to get out of the road onto the side street and assess the damage. That, of course, was a task in and of itself. As the kind folk in the southbound lane were stopped waiting to let me go, some other cocksucker in a fucking Beamer drives around one of the stopped cars and onto the side street trying to get around, and almost hits me. Boy, I could have kicked him in the fucking teeth. Now mind you, I'm still trying to keep an eye on the dude who swiped me. As I'm pulling on to the side street, I see him sitting in his car about a block away and then, like that...he's gone. (BTW, I'll give One American Dollar to the first person to name the movie that's from). I repeat for dramatic effect: THIS PUSSY MOTHERFUCKER LEFT THE GODDAMNED SCENE. So there I am, trying to figure out who to yell at, feeling completely helpless. Some people come out from their houses to see if I'm OK, which kinda made me feel good. But of course, no witnesses. I call the police and sit...and wait...and wait...and wait. As I'm waiting, two guys come back to tell me that they saw the accident. In fact, one dude was at the intersection going north on Orange Grove and fucking followed this dickless cock for a couple blocks, but lost him when the dude kicked in the juice. In this guys words:

He was real eager to get the fuck away from here.

The funny part about it was that when the cop got there, he chided the guy for following him.

Guy: I followed him for a couple blocks, but couldn't get close enough to get a plate.
Cop: Yea, that's not the part of town where you want to be following somebody to.

So oh well I guess. Now I'm stuck with 1) a $1K deductible staring me in the face, 2) higher insurance premium, and 3) more insurance, police, and DMV paperwork than I want to think about.

Now I'm pissed, but I'm not really sure what the worst part is. I think I'd feel a lot better if that litte piece of shit waste of human flesh motherfucker who hit me hadn't run like the scared little bitch that I'm sure he is. If there's any justice in this world, he fucking cracked his skull off the windshield.

I know they won't ever see it, but I'm really grateful to the two guys who came back and told me they saw it, and I owe a shitload to the guy who chased this dickhead. Thanks Paul -- I think there's gonna be a bottle of scotch in the mail for him.

And to the lame ass knucklehead who hit me: I've got my eye out for you. In fact, to everyone in the Pasadena area: keep your eyes peeled for a late model, cream or beige Nissan 300ZX with a fucked up front passenger side fender and silver paint marks. If you see him, pull in front of him, get out of your car, and give him the Vulcan Death Grip. Then stuff him in your trunk and bring him to me, and I'll get fucking Hostel on his ass.

The worst part of all of this? I was actually having a good day until this. I suppose I should be happy though: my car's not totalled, and I wasn't hurt. But make no mistake: I still want that dudes' head on a platter.