Letter: Reckless driver exposes human nature's ugly side

Editor,

To the hero who could have been:

Despite the horrors of the recent hurricane and the debacle of the federal relief effort, the acts of individual Americans have been extraordinary. From the construction crew who brought boats down to New Orleans and spent days rescuing people to the hospital workers who stayed behind to keep the most vulnerable newborn babies alive, people from all walks of life have shown us how good we can be when called upon.

These thoughts have been on my mind for the past few weeks, and my general feelings about humanity have been, for a change, positive. But then you changed it all. You, that young clean-cut man with brown eyebrows in a large, light colored truck who rear-ended me and drove away. Not only did you just drive away, you first looked at me and raised your hand up in an "I'm sorry" gesture. I thought you were gesturing that you were going to pull over, but then you proceeded to drive - in reverse - up Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, weaving though traffic, leaving me crying and shaking in the middle of the street with the back end of my car all but destroyed.

Why couldn't you have stopped? Why couldn't you for a single instant have thought about someone other than yourself? Why were you so cruel? I was so scared. You left me in the middle of the street not knowing if I was hurt, if I was bleeding, if my legs were broken.

You were driving a big expensive truck - was it really that you didn't have insurance? I don't think so. I think you were a coward. Shame on you for running away. Shame on you for proving in your own small way how petty and selfish humans can be.

You ought to know that you are better than that. You should know after watching the news this week that we are all better than that. The heroes in New Orleans are no different than you or I.

You would have been, in your own small way, just like them had you chosen not to drive away. Nelson Mandela once said, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?"

I hope that if somehow this letter ever reaches you, it might make you think for a moment that you are better than what you think you are. You are brave enough, you are smart enough and you are compassionate enough not to drive away.

Darcy Constans

UNM student