Let Me Tell You About That Time I Got Hit By A Car

I've regaled many of you with this story incident debacle fiasco shitstorm already but I've been encouraged numerous times to blog about it and you know I wouldn't want to disappoint my adoring audience so I will attempt to put this ridiculous event into writing.

Y'all are very aware of my feelings on running, but you are also very aware of my eating habits so, seeing as I don't want to be 500 lbs and/or have a heart attack when I'm 32, I have been trying to be good about working out. A few weeks ago I set out for a run after work. I put on a cute little running outfit (one of the only benefits of deciding to be a runner), threw my hair in a ponytail, laced up my shoes, and headed out the door, none the wiser that in about 20 minutes I'd be in one of the most absurd situations of my life. I'm jogging along, listening to my jams, consumed by thoughts of how awful running is because that is the only thing your brain can possibly be filled with while you're running.

This is me:

Run run run. Good lord I hate running. Run run. Do normal people struggle this much with running? Are my lungs half the size of normal people's lungs? Do I have tiny baby lungs? Oh my gosh, I have baby lungs. Run run run run. Yes, pretty psyched that Wheatus just started playing but seriously running is just the worst. Run. Oooo a sprinkler! That was fun! Run run run. Oh I'm about to run in front of an alley. An alley that is just like the other 50 alleys I've run across tonight. Cool. HOLY SHIT A CAR JUST HIT ME.

So this Land Rover comes out of the alley without slowing down at the sidewalk at all and I see it just in time to try to stop myself but I can't stop fast enough so instead I will just use this SUV's front end to stop myself. I was done running anyway. Just kidding, I'm 2 miles from my house, I was NOT done running, you stupid Land Rover.

Basically it was not more than a tap, I didn't even come away with any of those cool injuries that are all like sweet to show to your friends and make you seem like a badass but not bad enough that it requires actual medical attention. You know, those cool kind of injuries. But still, I was just hit by a car. My gut reaction was for my jaw to drop, get really wide-eyed, and blurt “asshole.” At which point the driver yells “C*NT” at me. I'm sorry, WHAT? Your big douche face just hit me with your big jerk car and you are now yelling a horrible word at me? How does your brain work? I would be happy to provide you with a Rules of the Road handbook because myself and Jesse White agree that you are in the wrong and your reaction should have been, “I'm so sorry, are you ok? I know I should have stopped at the sidewalk but I'm a total moron and I promise to never do this again. Thanks to you I will now be a much better driver. By the way you're really pretty and good at running. And here is this apology cookie cake I got for you.”

I thought I was in shock when the car hit me but once this guy yells the c-word at me I'm really in shock. I'm totally speechless so I just look at him like he's out of mind (because he is). At which point he goes “What? Bring it!”

You just blew my mind, guy. This is a man in his late-thirties wearing a suit driving an SUV who just hit a pedestrian and he just told me to “bring it.” Who says that? (And why oh why did I not get over my surprise fast enough to say “It's already been brought.” It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I blew it.) Then he just floors it into the street without even looking and speeds off. Every ounce of my being was hoping that when he floored it he hit a car or something else that would have brought some vindication to this encounter.

So then I just continued on my run. When I got home I was so mad that I didn't say anything better to him. The whole situation was so surreal that I couldn't even react but I spent the entire night thinking of all the witty, biting, sardonic things I should have said. And he would have thought about what he did, and he would regret his preposterous word choices, and he would become a better person after the ordeal. But it didn't happen that way and now I'm getting all worked up all over again wishing I would have come back with something better to say that night. Oh well, I'll be ready next time.