Oh, Deer!
As previously mentioned, the weather last week was crappy. At least it was crappy every other day. That means Friday fell on one such crappy day. But it wasn’t bad enough to keep me home. Or any other Christmas shopper either, for that matter. I wasn’t really Christmas shopping. I was just doing my regular weekly shopping. By the time I headed home from town with my trunk loaded with both my groceries and my mom’s grocery order, it was dusk. The morning’s snow had mingled with the road crew’s salt to create a mush that hazed over the windshield requiring frequent applications of washer fluid. I was in the midst of pondering how much of that stuff I had left in the reservoir and making mental notes to check it before venturing out again, when a huge buck, complete with an exceptionally nice rack, appeared in my peripheral vision.
He was running straight at me. My brain kicked into high gear, but things still happened so fast that I don’t know if I’d have had time to react, should my brain have decided what to do. As it was, I did nothing. I didn’t brake, I didn’t swerve. I just braced myself for the inevitable.
The buck slammed into the driver’s side of my beloved Saturn Ion with a tremendous KER-THUD. The car jumped. Or maybe I jumped. Most likely, we both jumped.
I looked in the rear view mirror. The buck spun around on his side in the middle of the road, leaped to his feet and ran—or more accurately, STAGGERED—off the road, still heading in the same direction he’d been going in the first place.
I kept driving. There were no sounds of fenders dragging against tires. The windows were all intact. The deer had vanished into the gloomy dusk. If I pulled over, I feared that another driver wouldn’t be able to see me in my dark parka and jeans and might hit me. I didn’t think I’d get up and run off after a close encounter with a motor vehicle like the deer did. So I drove on.
My mind raced. Would the insurance company pay for repairs if there was no police report? How much damage was there?
Would hubby complain because I let the buck get away?
By the time I was nearing home, it was dark. I have very little outdoor lighting. Not enough to make a good assessment of crinkled or mashed fenders. So I pulled off at our friend’s farm market, parking under his dusk-to-dawn light. I stumbled into the market, my heart still pounding, and told Mark what happened. He came out and, together, we examined the damage.
Or we would have if there had been any.
There wasn’t as much as a scratch on my car. Headlights and taillights were fine. The only evidence of the collision was the splattering of deer hair on my back fender.
I’ve always joked about my little plastic car. One of the big selling points of the Saturn has been the “dent-resistant” doors and side panels. Read that as polymer. Plastic.
I can now attest that they truly are DENT-RESISTANT. I’m not so sure about the deer. I hope he survived. If he did, I imagine he’s a little sore right about now.
I love my little plastic car.
He was running straight at me. My brain kicked into high gear, but things still happened so fast that I don’t know if I’d have had time to react, should my brain have decided what to do. As it was, I did nothing. I didn’t brake, I didn’t swerve. I just braced myself for the inevitable.
The buck slammed into the driver’s side of my beloved Saturn Ion with a tremendous KER-THUD. The car jumped. Or maybe I jumped. Most likely, we both jumped.
I looked in the rear view mirror. The buck spun around on his side in the middle of the road, leaped to his feet and ran—or more accurately, STAGGERED—off the road, still heading in the same direction he’d been going in the first place.
I kept driving. There were no sounds of fenders dragging against tires. The windows were all intact. The deer had vanished into the gloomy dusk. If I pulled over, I feared that another driver wouldn’t be able to see me in my dark parka and jeans and might hit me. I didn’t think I’d get up and run off after a close encounter with a motor vehicle like the deer did. So I drove on.
My mind raced. Would the insurance company pay for repairs if there was no police report? How much damage was there?
Would hubby complain because I let the buck get away?
By the time I was nearing home, it was dark. I have very little outdoor lighting. Not enough to make a good assessment of crinkled or mashed fenders. So I pulled off at our friend’s farm market, parking under his dusk-to-dawn light. I stumbled into the market, my heart still pounding, and told Mark what happened. He came out and, together, we examined the damage.
Or we would have if there had been any.
There wasn’t as much as a scratch on my car. Headlights and taillights were fine. The only evidence of the collision was the splattering of deer hair on my back fender.
I’ve always joked about my little plastic car. One of the big selling points of the Saturn has been the “dent-resistant” doors and side panels. Read that as polymer. Plastic.
I can now attest that they truly are DENT-RESISTANT. I’m not so sure about the deer. I hope he survived. If he did, I imagine he’s a little sore right about now.
I love my little plastic car.
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Comments
And for the record, your insurance company would have paid for a repair. Deer hits aren't considered accidents--they come out of your comprehensive with no deductible.