“Wow. That’s a great looking deer.”
There was just enough time for that simple thought to enter my brain as the front end of my Mercury Tracer crumpled and the airbag exploded into my face. The sound of screeching brakes and glass scattering along the highway broke the pristine silence of a cold, clear November night somewhere near Warner, New Hampshire.
A cloud of white obscured my vision and as soon as the car came to rest in the breakdown lane, I jumped out. I stood there by the side of the road for a second- still dazed and trying to make sense of what just happened. By the time I figured out the car wasn’t on fire, and the white cloud was actually talcum powder from the airbag, the car was rolling down a steep embankment and unceremoniously mowing down a grove of young pine trees far below.
A passerby stopped when they saw me standing on the side of the road. I explained that I had hit a deer.
“But where is your car?” I pointed down at the now camouflaged car hidden in the trees below.
“Where’s the deer?” That one had me stumped. I had no idea. It was nowhere to be seen, but judging from the front of the car, it didn’t get very far.
Eventually a state police officer arrived, and invited me to tell him what happened.
“Soooo…… where’s the car?” “Aaaaand now,.... where’s the deer?”
