On Tuesday evening, on my way home from work, I took the usual course that I always take to go home. The course takes me down a dark and narrow road with only one very darkly lit street lamp, that allowed very limited vision. On top of that, since it was raining a bit the field of view was even more darker than usual.
The dark and narrow road is usually only used by nearby residents, and serves as somewhat of a short cut for local commuters who live in the area. Other than that, the road is rarely used by non-locals because of its narrowness. As I was walking home, I walked towards the left side of the road. In the distance, I heard a motor bike approaching quickly from behind me. I didnâ€™t bother to look back because local people on motorbikes and scooters use this road quite often, and often drive faster that should be legally allowed. As the noise from the 2 stroke engine grew closer, I started to move more to my left expecting the bike to pass me on my right. Just at that moment, BOOM! the bike hits me dead on from behind at about 40km/hr, sending me down to the ground shoulder first to the wet pavement below.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground face down. I didnâ€™t feel too much pain, but I was in disbelief that this guy could not avoid hitting me. I heard some scaping sounds as if someone was scaping a metal stick onto asphalt about a meter ahead of me. I laid there for about 10 seconds or so, expecting the rider to ask me if I was okay, but all I heard were more scraping sounds. I finally looked up to notice that the rider had his scooter on its wheels again, as he was inspecting for damages from the hit to the asphalt. I felt a surge of anger and rage go through my body at the fact that he was more concerned over the damages to his scooter than about the person he just struck.
Suddenly a mad surge of adrenaline kicked in, propelling me to my feet as if Ihad loaded springs underneath me. With very little disregard to who this punk was that ran into me, I grabbed him by his coat and lunged a pretty good punch to his face (just as a greeting to let him know of my existence, which he seemed to have forgotten.) As he turned towards me holding his cheek from from the pain of the punch, I was able to get my very first look at the perpetratorâ€™s face. And to my surprise, it was a young boy, maybe in his late teens or early 20â€™s at the most. But at this point, his age really didnâ€™t concern me. This guy hit the wrong person, and I was going to let him know of that fact. My first initial reaction was to beat this guy to a pulp, not for just hitting me, but for showing absolutely no concern that he just hit a human being with a motor vehicle and could have seriously injured me. In my neighborhood, I am a relatively young guy as most of the neighbors are either at or beyond retirement age. Had it been them and not me, they could have sustain even more serious injuries or even worse.
I seriously wanted to hurt this guy, but I had to stand back and think for a moment, especially about my family and my career. The wrong move could end it all for me, and it just wasnâ€™t worth throwing it all away for this snot-nosed brat. I regained my composure and said, â€œYou had better have a driverâ€™s licenseâ€, to which he had no response. I walked up to him and I repeated, â€œtake out your driverâ€™s license NOW!â€. Still silence. By this point he was very squeemish and looked as if he wanted to cry. He adjusted himself on his scooter. I then realized that he probably didnâ€™t have a license and he was pretty close to being a flight case. I quickly scanned his attributes and his bike, in case he decided to take off.
I then said â€œI get it, you donâ€™t have one do you?â€, he flinched big time as if I had read his deepest darkest secret from his the darkest corner of his mind. His hand extended towards the keys in the ignition. â€œYou better not run! You run, and what is now just a traffic accident, will become a felony.â€ He finally spoke, â€œIâ€™m not going to run.â€
By now, I just wanted to get his details so that I knew where to send the cleaning bill for my suit. So I demanded that he give me his phone number and address. He continued to stare at me like a deer in headlights, obviously very frightened, and made no effort to exchange details. â€œLook, if you donâ€™t give me your details, I will call the police. What do you want to do?â€ I demanded. He looked troubled, as if he were caught in the middle of an argument over morality between the symbolic devil and angel that sat on his shoulders. He may have not come to a decision, but I already knew that he was a flight case at this point, and continued to make mental notes about everything I could about him, with the very little time I had left.
He was about my height, maybe slightly taller and was somewhat heavy set. He was young, perhaps a student, and had a very weak demeanor and personality. His face was relatively roundish and had narrow eyes. He was wearing a black bikers helmet that resembled a batterâ€™s helmet without the ear protection which are commonly used by scooter riders in Japan.
His bike was a white 50cc motor scooter with black trim and a silverish emblem on the front. On the step (where his feet were) was a clear plastic shopping back. I couldnâ€™t fully identify the contents other than what looked to be a small tangerine inside, which told me that he went to the local supermaket (as opposed to a convenience store such as 7-11 where they donâ€™t sell tangerines) which should be a good clue as to where he goes shopping. There are only three supermakets in the immediate area and not all three use clear shopping bags. I also got his license plate number which I wonâ€™t publish here, but the bike is registered in our district so, he probably lives nearby. All of this info was reported to the Kanagawa police department. It seems that the police love hit and run accidents because as I was giving my account of the event, three different offiicers vigorously and eagerly took notes using three different laptops, making sure that not a single drop of detail was missed. The police report wound up being about 3 pages long and written in the most eloquent Japanese I have ever read.
After the adrenaline wore off the pain did start to set in abit. As a requirement for the police report, I had to go to the hospital and get examined. The bill came to about $400 because it was so late at night and I had to be admitted to the emergency room. Another hefty bill that will be handed to the perpetrator when they find him. I also found that he tore my suit pants, so I will need to get a new suit as well. This suit was relatively cheap, but still cost about $500.
I checked online on what the penalty for hit and run in Japan is. Normally first time offenders will get released on probation unless they have a history of other similar crimes. However, hit and run coupled with driving without a license, carries a 2 year jail sentence plus a fine, and of course any damages. I feel bad for the kid now, he might have just ruined his life over a really bad decision.
Getting into trouble in the kitchen ….as usual
Trying on my shoes
More of the same
Lounging in the living room