Nearly a month ago, I had a heart attack. All right, so it wasn't nearly a heart attack, but it was a hair-raising heart-racer. I was driving to school. It was a Monday morning about 6:35 a.m. It was a cold morning; I could see my breath while sitting inside my car. I had the heater on full blast, but it was only on the defrost setting. Otherwise, cold air shoots out at your face in the beginning.
The drive to school takes me about 10 minutes, that is if I don't get stuck behind any old ladies. (Generally this isn't a problem considering I live out towards the country where tough guys speed by in their big ole' Ford pickups.) Around 3 minutes into the drive, I took my eyes off the road just long enough to adjust the heat from defrost to dashboard. Unfortunately, the heat brought the heat.
In the split second it took to adjust the heat, I....(drum roll) hit a deer! The sound of me hitting the object (not yet identified) at approximately 48 mph was enough to make my heart skip a beat. Instantly, I looked up to see a whaling of fury legs and then this body flying across my windshield. Definitely identified: deer.
Now what? Never did we discuss this in driver's ed. I continued driving "deer struck" for about 3 seconds before I glanced down to see the front end of my car. It was an accordion. The nose was crunched. All right, I thought to myself, this is bad. I peeled off onto the curb. Then I turned on my right turning signal; I couldn't find the appropriate flashing lights. Again, I never learned about. My goodness, it was just one big learning morning. Too bad, I DIDN'T EVER intend to enroll in the class of hitting deer!
At that point, I will admit, I started crying. I am not really sure why. Maybe it was the broken record image of legs flailing. Or maybe it was that I felt responsible because I was adjusting the heater at the time. Or maybe it was the fear of not having a car. Or maybe it was the fear of paying for the car. How about all of the above. It was just not the best way to start the week.
A minute had elapsed since the collision (this one not quite cultural). I then called my mom. She was very soothing. It made me think she DID enroll in the class of hitting deer. But I guess moms are good at that sort of thing. I told her where I was, and within 10 minutes, her and dad arrived at the scene of the accident. I think it was my right turning signal that beckoned them so quickly.
After two weeks in the shop, my little Ellie May and I were reunited. (Don't let this fool you. Ellie May is the name of my car, but I can't, nor won't, take credit for that one. Dad came up with the name from the Beverly Hill Billies. His old '86 Ford F151 was---"was" because it bit the dust since---Jethro. The other new '03 Ford F151 is Jed. Mom's Impala is Grannie. And then there's my Rav4, Ellie May. One big happy family. The only thing missing is my oil sprout that will take us to California.) Evidently, Ellie May was dollars away from being total. That would not have been good. I am very thankful to still be driving her today.
This got me thinkin'. Where else can someone say they hit a deer besides Iowa? Nebraska? Wisconsin? Minnesota? Sure, but probably not in Florida. And probably not in Ireland or Australia. But culturally speaking, what "collisions" take place around the world with animals? Do the Australians run into Joey's? Or do the Chinese run into water buffalo? (I know our tour guide bus just about took one out in Yang Shua, China last summer. That was a heart-racer.) Just a thought. One that never crossed my mind that moment. Oh, what the mind can fathom with time...........
*Image courtesy of DVD Beaver
The drive to school takes me about 10 minutes, that is if I don't get stuck behind any old ladies. (Generally this isn't a problem considering I live out towards the country where tough guys speed by in their big ole' Ford pickups.) Around 3 minutes into the drive, I took my eyes off the road just long enough to adjust the heat from defrost to dashboard. Unfortunately, the heat brought the heat.
In the split second it took to adjust the heat, I....(drum roll) hit a deer! The sound of me hitting the object (not yet identified) at approximately 48 mph was enough to make my heart skip a beat. Instantly, I looked up to see a whaling of fury legs and then this body flying across my windshield. Definitely identified: deer.
Now what? Never did we discuss this in driver's ed. I continued driving "deer struck" for about 3 seconds before I glanced down to see the front end of my car. It was an accordion. The nose was crunched. All right, I thought to myself, this is bad. I peeled off onto the curb. Then I turned on my right turning signal; I couldn't find the appropriate flashing lights. Again, I never learned about. My goodness, it was just one big learning morning. Too bad, I DIDN'T EVER intend to enroll in the class of hitting deer!
At that point, I will admit, I started crying. I am not really sure why. Maybe it was the broken record image of legs flailing. Or maybe it was that I felt responsible because I was adjusting the heater at the time. Or maybe it was the fear of not having a car. Or maybe it was the fear of paying for the car. How about all of the above. It was just not the best way to start the week.
A minute had elapsed since the collision (this one not quite cultural). I then called my mom. She was very soothing. It made me think she DID enroll in the class of hitting deer. But I guess moms are good at that sort of thing. I told her where I was, and within 10 minutes, her and dad arrived at the scene of the accident. I think it was my right turning signal that beckoned them so quickly.
After two weeks in the shop, my little Ellie May and I were reunited. (Don't let this fool you. Ellie May is the name of my car, but I can't, nor won't, take credit for that one. Dad came up with the name from the Beverly Hill Billies. His old '86 Ford F151 was---"was" because it bit the dust since---Jethro. The other new '03 Ford F151 is Jed. Mom's Impala is Grannie. And then there's my Rav4, Ellie May. One big happy family. The only thing missing is my oil sprout that will take us to California.) Evidently, Ellie May was dollars away from being total. That would not have been good. I am very thankful to still be driving her today.
This got me thinkin'. Where else can someone say they hit a deer besides Iowa? Nebraska? Wisconsin? Minnesota? Sure, but probably not in Florida. And probably not in Ireland or Australia. But culturally speaking, what "collisions" take place around the world with animals? Do the Australians run into Joey's? Or do the Chinese run into water buffalo? (I know our tour guide bus just about took one out in Yang Shua, China last summer. That was a heart-racer.) Just a thought. One that never crossed my mind that moment. Oh, what the mind can fathom with time...........
*Image courtesy of DVD Beaver
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