The Worst Feeling in the World

What could gnaw at you more than knowing you hit a pedestrian and raced away? What if the person was dead – and all over the news? Knowing a little something of what the guy who hit me endured, I can’t help but wonder about the fugitives from a recent string of hit ‘n run fatalities in L.A.

In 2003 I was hit by a rather tightly wound individual (read: dickhead) driving a brand new Jaguar S-Type who left me for dead in the middle of the intersection at Lincoln Blvd & Rose Ct. in Venice, CA. Bystanders tended to me while good Samaritans yelled to each other about the direction in which the Jaguar had fled. I awoke in the middle of the commotion, looking up at the June sky and feeling freezing cold. My head was being held very still above a pool of blood. I was beginning to hyperventilate, which made some lady above me cry.

A man ran up and yelled, “Here! Here! I have his address! I followed him to some condos up that way!” I heard a stampede of boots and feet running for cars, then several peel outs. By then several cops had arrived, seeking a culprit to question or cuff and being unleashed like that is what Badges live for.

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