Yesterday, I was on my way to the grocery store to buy some groceries (as the only thing I had left to eat was the popcorn from Christmas) when I saw a truck hit a parked car.
In New York City there isn't a lot of parking. Cars line both sides of the narrow streets, leaving just enough room to drive between. If you park your car more than the prescribed 1 foot from the curb, you are going to get your side mirror removed.
Last night, it wasn't that the car had parked too far from the curb, it was that it had parked too close to the intersection (in direct violation of a sign at the car's front bumper). The truck was a giant 20' flatbed with a semi-sized engine. There wasn't enough room for the truck to turn onto this narrow, car lined street with the car so close to the intersection.
If I was driving the truck, I would probably have decided to go a different route, where I could turn safely, and not run into anything. This driver obviously had a different view.
He turned onto the street, scrapping his truck along the side of the car, and rocking the car in its tires. On the cold, dark evening, in quiet Brooklyn, the sound sounded out loud and clear. The driver didn't stop, or even slow down, he just drove on.
I stood, staring at the little car, whose owner was in for a bit of bad news when he got back, and miraculously, the side mirror was still on the car.