Hit and Miss

#33: That's Hit and Run, Mister

My car took a hit again.

Early this evening, as I was managing my way to join that massive sea of vehicles in EDSA, this dilapited Tamaraw started bullying his way into my lane. Not only was I tired but I was itching to go home and get some rest. Really early day tomorrow. So tonight was not going to be one of those nights wherein I'd just float over the streets while talking to myself. I stepped on the gas pedal. He stepped on his too. Next thing I know, his bumper was slamming into my rear. I stepped on the brakes immediately. Disbelief mixed with indignation. I started slipping out of my driving tsinelas and into my decent shoes to get ready to go down. Bad idea. No girl in her right mind should go down her car when hit by a century-old truck at night time. Not a good idea.

I checked the rearview mirror to see if he was going to step out. My heart was beating wildly. How could I mess up the car again??? Twice in two weeks?! That's insane! No, what will be more insane would be to step out and talk to the goon. He'll probably shove me inside his truck, gag me, take me to Sta Rosa and kill me there. Where is a jungle bolo when you need it?

And so I stayed inside the car. Inhale. Exhale. Next time I looked at the mirror, he was changing lanes and speeding away. Yeah. Run like hell. That's called Hit and Run, you crazy criminal.

As for what I did, that's what you call Cower and Hide. Yes, I am one crazy coward.