On the way home from work this afternoon a car coming our direction hydroplaned, went out of control, and clipped the truck in front of us. The truck spun and went off the side of the road. The original vehicle also ran off the road and continued several hundred feet into the jungle. The driver wasn't trying to stop even though his car was shedding parts as he accelerated forward.
Cheryl and I were just far enough back that we weren't affected. But we stopped and I tromped through the sword grass and brush to get to the car which had lodged into the thick vegetation. There was smoke coming from the wheels which were still spinning. The driver was trying to shove his door free. I was wondering if I should get my machete out of our trunk to carve some space to open his door. But before I could decide what to do next, he managed to push his door free.
The 20-something man then jumped out of the still smoking car, ran past me to the road, threw off his flip flop sandals, and ran south down the middle of the lightly flooded street -- astonishing everyone who had stopped in the rain to help.
He was still in sight as the police arrived and they could have chased him down. But hey, this is an island where someone always knows who you are, where you are, and what you're up to. There was no hurry to get him.
You can run (but not too far) but you can't hide -- at least not for very long these days.
Amazingly, no one was hurt -- although the fleeing driver seemed pretty glazed over. He had a blank nobody-is-home look on his face as he ran down the center of the Backroad to Andersen.