Yep! Same suburb, same street, same curb, very similar result.
About 2.30am Monday, I heard the familiar screeeeech boom crash tinkle followed by eery silence sound that I associate with young men driving late, late at night. Once again, a car missed the bend, mounted the curb, smashed a tree, and spun around a few times, before coming to a stop side on, facing the wrong way.
The neighbourhood, by now well practised in the art of emergency assistance, ran out into the street. The car doors were stuck, and when asked ‘are you alright mate?’ by one of the good samaratins, driver answered as if annoyed at the question, “I don’t f*ing know.” Driver then proceeded to try and kick his way out. When the door finally opened, he took off! Ah, but the police, ambulance and firebrigade were just as quick, and they jumped him and held him down. Wow, could that man yell. “Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh, f*ck off you f*n c*nts, ahhhhhhh ahhhhhhh, help help, get orfff you f*n dogs, ahhhh ahhhhhh, my back, my back, ahhhhhh.” etc etc. Like he was lying mortally wounded in the trenches at the battle of Dien Bien Phu. He might have had some crediblity except that he had tried to flee so quickly – none of this staggering around confused business, more like, ‘right, I’m off!’.
Oddly, the debris included a large cataolgue of vinyl LPs. Hopefully nothing too rare or expensive, because they were completely annihilated. There was also glass, wheel hub, bits of tyre, and hunks of tree scattered across the road, on the footpath, in my front garden and probably in the branches of the trees too.
But just like a scene from Dark City, the night cleaners came and removed almost all trace before daylight. Spooky.
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