10 October 2005
is that blood on my hands?Today - technically speaking - i knocked someone over. A hit and run, like - I hit him and he ran. Actually what happened is that a mad person launched himself at my moving car, smacked into it and then ran away very very fast indeed. Despite being a crap driver, i was driving on the road and not the pavement so am fairly sure it wasn't my fault.
It happened as I was on my way back from a Very Important Meeting this morning and i realised i needed to make a phone call. I would love to say i was being a responsible citizen and i pulled over so as not to talk on the phone while driving, but actually its just as i said earlier - i am a shit driver and if i attempt both tasks concurrently i am successful in neither. So i pulled over and hungrily started arranging that nice cup of coffee and a bite of lunch with a mate.
Imagine my surprise when a wild eyed nutter (judging from his clothing he lives in a drain) marched up and kicked my car while yelling at me about my ancestory. i ignored him and carried on trying to establish (without looking at the map) where the corner of Crown and Liverpool was, at which point he started headbutting the car. I quickly explained to my mate that i was being attacked and had to drive off. Note to mate: next time we are on the phone and i tell you that i am being murdered please don't ring me back. you would be mortified if i died because i was too polite to let your call go through to voicemail.
Anyhoooo - the point being that i sped off, hurled the cage around the corner and went smack into a dead end road. i dramatically turned the car around (only took 5 goes, too) and raced back around the corner, only to be faced with the mad guy standing the in the middle of the road. He sprinted towards the car and attempt to do a parachute landing on the bonnet for absolultely no good reason as far as i could see. it was very bizarre and utterly surreal - bearing in mind less than 2 minutes had elapsed since i first dialled the phone number. i had swerve quickly and in the process bumped his arse really quite hard. He went spinning around but stayed on his feet while i hovered about wondering what to do. i put my foot down and got the heck outta there.
I thought about it for a while and realised that technically it was a hit and run. The down sides to reporting the incident is that firstly it would spoil a great story, secondly he was mad and thirdly it would be very hard to describe a nutter walking around Kings Cross with a pillow cover over his head and slits cut out for eyes without sounding like a nutter yourself. especially now that i don't have a job - being unemployed detracts from my credibility heaps.
eventually i decided to leave it, but i wonder if i will sleep tonight knowing that i bruised a freak?