Whoever keeps hitting the turtles, you can stop now.
By this time in turtle season, I’ve usually helped two or three turtles across the road. This year, I’ve stopped for four that have turned out to have been mutilated beyond hope. Today it was another baby snapping turtle. Its head was smashed in. Its tiny tail was still twitching.
You’ve already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that either you need to retake drivers’ ed five or six times, or you need to grow a soul.
Stop hitting them.
They do not dart into the road. They do not smack into your windshield. They do not frolic in the middle of traffic. They do not go all spastic during mating season and leap into the path of oncoming cars.
They are turtles.
If you cannot avoid hitting them, you may want to consider hiring a chauffeur who can actually drive.
If you are hitting them on purpose, you may want to consider surgery to have a conscience implanted.
My fantasy du jour involves becoming a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and laying down some serious cowabunga, dudes.