fine whine

Just when I thought I was so cool for posting a couple days in advance, something timely happens. Thursday night, sometime after seven o'clock Jessica and I were walking down Northtowne toward Tamarack Circle when we heard a loud crashing noise. I looked forward and saw a black (or really dark blue) Toyota Camry smashing into the first car in a line of four or five, stopping briefly and then continuing on slowly down Northtowne. I made sure to look at the plates as the battered V6 (it was the model after the squarish one but before the most recent tank-styled one) lumbered past. The plates were   DR70BK, but it took me too long to make sure what they were so I didn't get a great look at the people in the car. Jessica says there were three white guys in it but I couldn't tell if there were three or five. I got a minor glance at the front passenger, a white guy with short light colored hair, and a goofy fratboy look on his face. He could be anywhere between twenty two and thirty two, but I have to admit I'm not a good witness.

I recognize my limitations. I realize that I didn't see the Camry actually hit the first car, the older woman's light blue 2001-2002 Ford Focus station wagon. That impact, with her driver-side tail light, I only heard and did not see. The second one, head on with the younger woman's black Honda Civic, I saw. None of this happened at too high of speed (nor do I recall hearing any skidding, despite the dampened street) but by the time the Toyota left there was at least two car lengths between the Focus sitting partway into the Circle and the Honda with the now-bashed-in bumper and grille "H" logo resting on the windshield. Not that that part mattered, as since nobody was hurt the crime scene was not scrutinized, well, at all.

The Camry drove away. Jessica and I stuck around since most of the other cars left, though two of them returned (a guy in another, older Camry and a woman in a white Eclipse convertible) having looked for the perpetrators, but alas, no dice. The squad car eventually arrived (#181, a newer Interceptor) and the policeman (sorry, didn't get his badge number) told us we could get going. I only hope that the guilty are caught, but can't imagine how they wouldn't be, as at least five witnesses got the plates. Then again, there's always the chance that the kids were joyriding (the Camry's the most stolen car, after all) but for that matter I didn't recall see them riding around with surgical gloves.

So, if there's a lesson to be learned there, you're going to need to figure it out yourself. I'll still probably post into the future, but I might start lying about the days when something supposedly happens.