I came to a stop in the corner of notsobusystraat prepared to take a left into busierstraat when a white non-descript car overshoot his right-turn and skidded slowly into my car’s door. Bump. Creak.
I was driving home a bit after 10pm last night determined to eventually make it into concert-city by 12:30am, my estimated time for the UB40 performance.
UB40, Unemployment Benefits form #40, what the lads had to fill in order to collect their unemployment checks at the onset of their careers in the late 70s.
Their music helped shape the 80s, especially in our beach community, and some critics say that they must attribute their longevity, 40 years, to the genre they picked, Reggae, airhead music that remained cool through the years, its popularity uneclipsed.
Everyone takes a beach vacation, every once in a while, and Reggae goes good with beer and sunshine.
Back to the grinding metal. I groaned, displeased. Then the gentleman driving backed up from the collision spot, and disappeared.
The following two drivers stopped. One made sure I memorized the fleeing car’s number plate, and the other called 911 then 165.
Rona, put on your hazard lights, they advised, by name, 165 will be here shortly. Then off they went. To the concert.
Perhaps 30 minutes later the 165-agent arrived with flashing lights and processed my story efficiently, taking pictures from all possible angles, filling out forms, recording my testimony, sitting in his nicely air-conditioned-office-van while waiting for the Police.
The hit & run phenomenon said the 165-agent, is on the rise, and about two months ago a law went into effect that allows the men-in-blue to knock on the escapee-driver’s door, and in the absence of insurance or a valid driver’s license, or in the presence of alcohol, haul him to jail for the night. Period.
Our Policemen, in a yellow-jacket, was also the picture of efficiency, and before he left to knock on the door of my escapee-driver, he told the 165-agent to listen to Pica 96.5% on Magic FM, from 11 to 12noon, on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. I am a fan, he said, and refrained from making any comments about my date of birth.
Good man. We still live in a small community.
I am off to see the wizards at Garage Centraal, on Monday.