Bad moods and bumpers: My hit-and-run story


An angry Robert von Glahn in his Prius

Robert von Glahn

It all started on a rainy Thursday morning in January. The previous day had been a slog of meetings with bratty seniors, high off their college decisions, and APUSH students who don’t appreciate the greatness of Fightin’ Bob La Folette. That morning, I had had enough. Stuck in the parking lot behind a Junior attempting to back into their spot for the fourth time, I snapped. 

Before I knew it, my foot had hit the gas pedal, slamming into the rear bumper of that unnamed junior. I’d never felt a rush like that before. Sliding into my space in the staff lot, and I fought to catch my breath, heart racing, knowing I had to do that again.

Over the next few weeks, I started to experiment. Sometimes I would slam into a parking car, dashing away before the driver could see me. Sometimes I would gently bump into an empty vehicle, a calmer feeling, but powerful nonetheless. 

I had a good few weeks. I felt alive. I fell asleep every night thinking about who I would bump into the next morning. But it all exploded last week. 

It started when the car was too slow leaving the parking lot. Driving up the hill at roughly eight miles an hour, and stopping for almost ten seconds at the stop sign. I could feel my blood racing. This grandma was about to get what they deserved. I slammed into the bumper, and immediately felt the sweet release of adrenaline that comes with a hit and run. But when I swerved past to zoom away, I locked eyes with my victim. 

It’s hard to describe the expression on Doug McLane’s face as I drove past him. I remember it in slow motion, the look of confusion on his face, like you’d told him it didn’t make sense to call the Bright Yellow plan “chartreuse.” 

I don’t know what this means for my career. But I want it on the record that I don’t regret my actions. I live for the fender benders.