On the morning of Tuesday, February 27, I parked my metallic blue 1989 Pontiac Grand Prix on College Avenue, as I have done most mornings for the past two-plus years. I managed to make it through another day of work at the VCC Help Desk and was happy to see the 5:00 hour tick off on the clock in my office. On my way out, I was conversing with a colleague about events of the day and thinking about what to cook for dinner when I got home. It had been just a regular Tuesday for me. When I arrived at my car, I didn’t immediately notice the damage. As a matter of fact, it was my colleague who brought it to my attention by exclaiming, "What the hell happened to your car?!" At that moment I saw that the entire driver’s side door was smashed in and that my metallic blue paint job was now streaked with white paint, indicating to me that something really bad had happened to my car while I was earning a living to keep it in gas, and oil, and tires ....

So what the hell did happen to my car? The answer to that question will be one for the ages, since the perpetrator of this crime (yes, leaving the scene is, indeed, a crime) did not have the one iota of decency it would have taken to leave a note with their contact and insurance information. I am a reasonable person—surely we could have worked this out. Instead, I am left holding the financial bag for someone else’s failure to be a responsible human being. I suppose I have been a victim of what another of my colleagues calls the golden rule of the new millennium, "Do unto others, then split." What a sad commentary, especially since I’ve probably been "done unto" by another member of the Rensselaer community.

Daria Robbins