So I "bagged" my first deer last night. And by "bagged" I mean "hit with my car". Even that isn't entirely accurate, as it was more like my car got hit by the deer.It's approximately 2:30 a.m. and I am in the middle of nowhere, South Carolina. Which means that I've been driving for approximately 12 hours, without incident. I'm only 15 minutes away from my destination on a lonely stretch of desolate highway. In fact, I haven't passed a car for the last 40 miles. As I approach a construction zone, I take my foot of the gas in order to adjust for the drop in speed limit. That's when out of the corner of my eye, I see this giant fucking deer sprinting headfirst into the side of my car.
Clunk.
Let me just say that the whole "deer in headlights" analogy is slightly inaccurate. When I saw this deer, it didn't freeze. It didn't look scared or bewildered. Nope. It looked pretty fucking sure that it could beat me across the highway. Confident almost. I've got proof of his hubris all over the passenger side of my door.
I kid.
The deer was okay. After impact, I pulled over immediately in order to check the damage and to exchange insurance information. And you know what? That son-of-a-bitch had already fled the scene. If I ever accidently hit someone's car, I'd at least have the courtesy to leave a note. [Editor's note: Probably]. I bet the deer was drunk.
The deer was okay. After impact, I pulled over immediately in order to check the damage and to exchange insurance information. And you know what? That son-of-a-bitch had already fled the scene. If I ever accidently hit someone's car, I'd at least have the courtesy to leave a note. [Editor's note: Probably]. I bet the deer was drunk.
So the deer ran away and my car is fucked up. Front panel, passenger and rear door all dented. I drive a pretty big car, so judging by the damage, I'd have to say this deer was at least seven feet long.
Anyway, so I call my dad to tell him 1) I'm at my final destination and 2) I got hit by a deer. His response, "Thank god you are okay. That could have been a lot worse." The next day, I talk to my grandmother and her response, "Thank god you are okay. That could have been a lot worse." Then I talk to my mom. Her response, "At least it wasn't a person." Yes. Thank god a crazed hobo didn't charge head first into my vehicle as I careened down the highway. That would have done quite a number on my insurance rates.
So now the passenger side of my car is horribly disfigured while the rest remains in pristine condition. It's like Mel Gibson in the "Man Without a Face." Except without the whole anti-semitism and "sugar tits" thing.
Anyway, so I call my dad to tell him 1) I'm at my final destination and 2) I got hit by a deer. His response, "Thank god you are okay. That could have been a lot worse." The next day, I talk to my grandmother and her response, "Thank god you are okay. That could have been a lot worse." Then I talk to my mom. Her response, "At least it wasn't a person." Yes. Thank god a crazed hobo didn't charge head first into my vehicle as I careened down the highway. That would have done quite a number on my insurance rates.
So now the passenger side of my car is horribly disfigured while the rest remains in pristine condition. It's like Mel Gibson in the "Man Without a Face." Except without the whole anti-semitism and "sugar tits" thing.
Anyway, for
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