When I was a young boy about 30 years ago my mom hit a guy riding a bike out on a back country road and sent him flying off into the ditch along with his bike. Our car hit him really hard. It was dark out, the kind of darkness you only get in the country on a moonless night. And neither of us saw the guy until we were right up on him. Anyway my mom was shaking like a leaf and repeating "omg I'm going to prison" over and over again. I told her "Just drive home mama, nobody saw what you did." And so she floored it and we parked the car in the barn the second we got home. Later that week an uncle of mine that owned an auto garage fixed the front end of the car. It was a mess. We didn't have a tv, so I never knew what became of that guy. And until recently (my mother's death) I haven't mentioned this to anyone. Not even my dad (who preceded mom in death) or my siblings.