Lastnight at 1:45am I was driving my Camaro minding my own business just enjoying the nice weather and the night driving. There wasn't a car ahead of me for miles nor was the any behind me. I was on a 5-lane road on the left hand lane of the north-bound side.
In the center turn lane, as I came through an intersection, was a car that I assumed was wanting to stop at the light to turn left. Not seeing a left turn signal from this car I thought nothing of it. Then I saw it wasn't slowing down. Then I saw the car make a sharp turn to the left, right at me. I had only a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second to react. I turned into the right-hand lane hoping to avoid any contact. But it was not meant to be. The oncoming car hit my drivers door square, turn my car to the left and spinning me around. The violent hit made my head bang into the drivers side t-top and busted it out, flying for dozens of feet through the air. My Camaro was now in a state of free spinning, going around one full rotation, air bags deploying with a loud, violent explosion. As soon as it started it stopped. I came to a rest in the culvert off of the road, my door practically gone, blood pouring from my head. I checked my passenger who affirmed that they were ok, nothing hurt, just a little shaken up. After accessing my status, blood pouring out but nothing more, I unbuckled my seatbelt, got out of the car and looked back at the genius that just hit me. More worst fears were realised when I saw what got out of the car; a blonde, late 20's early 30's, tight hip hugger pants and a blouse tied around her waste. She wasn't crying, she wasn't upset, but she was scared, her hand resting on her forehead.
"What the hell?", I said, "What happened? Did you not see ME?"
"No, I didn't see you at all!" she sheepishly replied.
"How could you not see me? I was in the next lane coming towards you. There's not another ****ing car in either direction for miles and you just turned into me!?!? Are you drunk?"
"No" again sheepishly.
"Do you have insurance?" I asked hopefully.
"Yes." she said.
At this time another guy came out of the parking lot of the convenience store on the corner of the intersection, asking if we were ok. I told him that I was and went back to my car to get my insurance papers, he going to the girl to make sure she was alright. Soon after a couple more cars pull up, more girls and a guy. The girls look like they are dancers as well. After a little small talk I notice the ***** that hit me is GONE. I mean ghost city gone! The other girls then tell me that the girl that hit me is a dancer, was seen in the topless club a block to the north acting like she was wasted. Apparently she snuck out through the kitchen while management wasn't watching. I also find out she has 2 or 3 DWI's that have been dismissed by the state.
I am pissed. I am looking at my car. From the driver's door back it is just crushed. The shape of the body from the top looks like a kidney bean. I can't believe this. My 1996 Camaro, the car I had babied since I drove it off the lot with less than 10 miles on the odometer, is sitting in the ditch smoking, glass everywhere, and most definitely dead. It was like seeing a family member there, eyes rolled back, guts hanging out. It had only 83,000 miles on it. I loved this car more than anything else that I owned. It was my pride and joy. And now it's twisted and grotesque sheet metal stares oddly back at me, asking me "What did I do? How did this happen?"
I actually teared up today waiting at the doctor's office. It hit me. The car that I absolutely loved was gone. Because some crack-potato titty dancer got wasted, got behind the wheel of her sugar-daddy's car and hit me going 55 mph.
The sad ending is the police still haven't found her, her insurance in the car was long expired, and it appears that she did get in the Ranger with the other witness, obviously making him an offer only a stupid crack potato could offer, and the left the scene of the accident. She'll probably go scott free and I am left with only memories. On the upside the other dancers that stopped told the police on-scene this *****'s name and address and told the cops she had a history of doing **** like this.
Life isn't fair, but this is just pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
My car, what's left of her. The ****'s car on the far right:
