Hit and run.


It was around 11:20 p.m. on Saturday.

To the east on Spring, I heard the screech of brakes and the familiar sort of automotive skidding sound that often ends with a “crunch,” and in fact, even though the whole sensation lasts only a couple of seconds, you’re already waiting to hear the finale, which arrived right on cue, but it was more of a thud than a crinkling of plastic parts.

Then there was a pause, with spinning tires and a subsequent roar, and something went past the house at a high rate of speed. Apparently the driver met the street lamp pole with enough velocity to bend it, but the vehicle remained sufficiently serviceable enough to flee the scene.

It was just another day (night) on a one-way, high-speed abomination.