Last week, I hit a homeless man. Okay, I hit him a few times. He didn’t hit back, only helplessly yelled, “stop, stop, stop” like a poorly timed chorus in a punk-rock song. I finally did stop when I heard more honking cars than I had my whole life. They sounded the same, all too high-pitched to be taken seriously, all operated by people too pussy themselves to stop what I was doing. I rushed back in my car, blew a red light and turned the wrong way down a one-way street but kept going, focusing on my rearview the whole way until I heard another honk. Then, I instinctively, immediately stomped on the brake pedal, for my own safety.