When I was in Oregon, I was riding my bike when a guy ran a stop sign and plowed into me. Destroyed my bike (my only mode of transportation at the time), broke my collar bone, and knocked my contact lenses out.
One minute I'm cruising down the road, and the next, I'm eating the passenger side of a Jeep Cherokee. I was laying in the street thinking, "I can't believe it, I was just run over". I lifted my head to see the guy pull over to the side of the road, I thought " he's going to help". I lowered my head again and hear spinning tires. I looked back up and he was tearing off down the street. I couldn't even get the plate number because my contacts were laying in the road somewhere. I started looking for my contacts and picking up the pieces of my bike when I hear a voice from across the street say "Hey buddy". "Great" I think, "this guys got the plate number". Instead, much to my growing anger, the SOB asks me if I have any spare change.
At the time I was really struggling to find work and hardly had two pennies to rub together. I called my eye doctor (three thousand miles away on the East Coast)to see If he would fax my prescription to the local optometrist so that I would not have to pay for the fitting of a new pair of contacts and he refused to do it. Went to the cops and their first reaction was to laugh and then tell me that there was nothing they could do without a plate number. I told them that the guy was pulling out of an apartment complex and maybe they could go look for a green Jeep with a large dent in the passenger door. They refused saying that lots of Jeeps have dents.
I went to the apartments myself and looked for the Jeep but did not see it. I went to the superintendent and explained what happened and asked if he knew the car and could he please tell me how to get in touch with the owner. Get this, the guy had moved out the day before and left no forwarding address (the super also refused to give me the guys name).
It really sucked to say the least.