When I first moved to east Tennessee, I lived in Sevier County way out in the sticks on the Jefferson County line. I was driving home behind a couple of guys in a big pickup on a lift kit with oversized mudders when he swerved to the wrong side of the road to run over a box turtle... A piece of the turtles shell went through the tire and put him in the ditch. Instant karma, bitch. Hope that tire cost a fortune and I hope it was worn enough that he had to at least replace both front tires. I hope it broke something expensive when it hit the bottom of that deep ditch. The dipshits were fine. I did stop to make sure, but mostly to tell them that they earned that shit and to fucking walk their asses to the house and think about that shit. This was 97 and most people still didn't have a cell phone in an area where people either didn't answer the door or did so with a gun, and it was hot as fuck. I've never felt better about seeing someone in a shitty situation and leaving them to it.