Santa Cruz hippies – Hit and Run

I wanted to add this on as a corollary to the Santa Cruz ass crack incident.  So my wife and I were driving into a rehearsal one morning, and I we were both pretty wiped out and grumpy because after about a week of constantly rehearsing new music you’re pretty tired.  I developed a new respect for the conductor of this festival just seeing her unbelievable vitality despite having the most pressure on her of anyone on stage.  (No, I do not retract my other statement regarding conductors making no sound.  Conductors also don’t have the luxury of making mistakes, and new music has about a billion complicated meter changes and strange rhythmic relationships to deal with, and this woman banged it out of the park from moment one of every rehearsal)  She always showed up ready to go, energetic, and this was despite having a young son who apparently got sick and was puking all night.  Here I am at 31 feeling like ass because I have to play a few notes now and again…

So we’re waiting at a yield sign, and BOOOOM.  Rear ended by some mother{f-ker} in a white Ford F-250 from like 1987.  It wasn’t bad, just a tap really, and I look around to see these two dudes in the truck angrily running their mouths at us…because THEY rear ended US.  Now typically I am a very level-headed dude, but at this particular point in time, and this particular level of tiredness, all I could think of was,

“I swear to god, if these two assholes start giving me shit I’m going to stomp them out right here in the street.”

Now whether or not I could actually back that up I’ll never know for reasons you will hear in a minute, but I used to do a lot of boxing (a LOT) and even though that doesn’t mean I’m a street fighter it does mean that I  throw an accurate straight right hand that will dislodge a punching bag from the chain, I’ve spent a lot of time in the gym exchanging punches with people much larger than me, and to quote Sgt. John Mclain, “I’VE GOT A BAD {F-KING} HEADACHE.  Two stoned assholes in Santa Cruz should be a walk in the park.  (I’ll be talking about boxing in the near future, and for the record, fighting is STUPID…)

 So finally we’re able to make our right turn off the yield sign, and as we do, this truck goes flying past us and straight onto the freeway.  NO WAY!  {F-kers} hit us and took off!  I call 911 and these three guys who saw the whole things pull over and give us the details on the truck.  No plate however.  Shame.  Within about a minute a cop shows up, and a minute after that two cops on bikes arrive and take our statement.  They were super cool about the whole thing, and the first words out of their mouths were:

“Good news, we’ve already got the plate number.”

Oh {f-cking} HELL YES!  (Me dancing a little jig and singing):  

These assholes are going to ja-yul!  Assholes going to ja-yul!  They gonna get raped in pri-zun!  Raped in their ass in pri-zun!

You cannot possibly imagine how giddy I was at the prospect of these idiots doing time for this, and the real, pathetic tragedy of all this is that my bumper was barely tapped.  Like, barely.  This was probably the most minor car accident you could ever imagine, and now these guys have made it orders of magnitude more terrible on themselves for what would otherwise have been a small affair.

The cop intimated that they probably had other “issues”, but nonetheless they would be caught.  Now this is where it gets funny.  I always thought that “criminal charges” meant that you did something that society at large deems worthy of spending money prosecuting.  As in, automatically.  Apparently this is not necessarily the case.  The police informed me that this was now  a criminal matter, but I had the right to say whether or not the charges would be pursued.  Again, not civil charges, criminal.  In other words, if I didn’t want criminal charges pressed, they wouldn’t do it.  I guess there must be a cutoff point where you don’t get any say, because if you murder someone I don’t think their family can elect not to press criminal charges.  Lawyer in the house?  Help me out here.

Where this ties into the drug thing, is the cops openly told me they can’t suggest any course of action to me regarding this criminal pursuit.  HOWEVER…after some hemming and hawing he did say, “Let me put it like this.  You’re free to do whatever you want, but Santa Cruz has a lot of drug problems and I’ve never seen something like this actually go before a judge.  Does that help?”

Yes.  Yes it does.  My wife and I are aware that Santa Cruz has a drug problem.  We won’t be pressing charges, thank you very much.  Personally, I would have loved to see those two stoner {f-k}wastesfrom my earlier post go to jail simply for defiling my meatball sub experience, and much more so than the douchey twins who hit my car.  Oh, and to close that out, they found the guys who hit us within, like, six hours.  I was a bit sad that this guy got off no differently than if he would have pulled over, but I guess that’s life.  I’ll do the best I can right now:


Hopefully someday a prospective girlfriend will google his name and this will come up.  Enjoy the digital cockblock, asshole.   Vagina: Dismissed

Oh, and PS:  This dude had insurance and everything.  There was absolutely no reason for him to run except that he was a complete piece of donkey {s-t}.

Ben Tomkins is a violinist, teacher, journalist and critically acclaimed composer currently living in Denver, Colorado. He hates stupidity and generally believes that the volume of one’s voice is inversely proportional to one’s knowledge of an issue. Reach Ben Tomkins at

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