Deer Me

I’m feeling particularly lucky to be here right now after what almost happened to us last week. Ken and I were coming back from a family get together—it was dark and we were on a rural road, chatting and looking forward to being home. Ken was driving my little Sonic since he claims it gets “better mileage” but I think he just likes the turbo engine. There were no other cars on the road so we had the high beams on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement ahead on the opposite side of the road and then I realized what it was and screamed “OMG, stop!!” But it was too late to stop, and as I continued to scream “Deer!!!F*ck!!!”, Ken slammed on the brakes and simultaneously cranked the wheel to the right. As we started to skid sideways towards the gravel shoulder, the head of the giant buck running across the road was next to our hood, so close that I could see the panic in its eyes, and as we slid past it, I could have sworn I heard its hoof click against my back bumper. The buck, and the doe following it, continued running and made it safely to the forest they were heading for. We sat there a minute, catching our breath—or Ken was, because I was hyperventilating so badly that I couldn’t breathe. It was TERRIFYING.

And here’s why I’m lucky. First, Ken had just gotten hearing aids. So when I initially screamed, he clearly heard me instead of responding by looking at me and asking, “What?” Let me tell you, these are top of the line, super fancy hearing aids too—he can answer his cell phone by tapping them, listen to music, and they even monitor his heart rate and the number of steps he takes every day. The problem is that HE can talk on the phone with them just fine, but for the person he’s talking to, usually me, it’s torture because they pick up the slightest noise and amplify it by a thousand. The other day, I called him from my car and we were chatting when suddenly this horrific noise almost split my eardrums.

Me: What the hell was that?!
Ken: What? And of course, I’m not asking you to repeat yourself, just asking what you’re talking about.
Me: That noise! What was it?
Ken: I just zipped up my coat…?
Me: Don’t do it again!

And the second reason why I’m lucky is that, when I screamed, Ken didn’t question it, didn’t hesitate for the fraction of a second that might have made the difference between surviving and ending up in the hospital with a car that would have been written off. And also, we didn’t kill any deer, which was also nice for the deer. I just hope Ken applies the same standard of behaviour the next time I need another glass of wine instead of saying, “What? Hang on a minute.”

In other news, Ken and I are leaving this afternoon for Germany. We fly out at 6 pm–let’s just hope our plane doesn’t encounter any reindeer. See you next week!

36 thoughts on “Deer Me”

  3. After a few near misses I’ve learned when my wife is driving to say “Stop!” Because when I say “Deer!” she thinks I’m saying “Dear” and says “What?” It’s easy to forget, though. She’s a very good driver and I’m usually in the passenger seat not paying attention so it’s rare I notice anything. I’m also glad your deer encounter had a happier ending than William Stafford’s poem “Traveling In The Dark”.

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  16. That is scary as hell, Suzanne! I’ve never had quite as close a call as that, but I’ve certainly experienced deer springing across the road out of nowhere, and it does make your heart skip a beat. Glad Ken was able to hear the whole incident!

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