Collision Course

"Sometimes we're on a collision course, and we just don't know it. Whether it's by accident or design, there's not a thing we can do about it." - The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Sunday I slept in until 10 a.m. I would be traveling home to KC. I needed to pack, take care of some housekeeping and errands, and see my family and some friends before taking off.  I planned to leave at 5 p.m., 6 the latest.

Packing went surprisingly quickly. The errands didn't take long: went to Target for an overdue graduation card and browsed the clothes section for a few minutes, bought some supplies for mom at the ABC, later purchased crickets for my gecko. Cleaning wasn't too overwhelming. My visits took a little longer than planned but where enjoyable nonetheless. I was about to head to Highway 2 when I realized I forgot spray paint and frisket paper for my bicycle revamping project.

I left Lincoln at 8:09 p.m.

Sunset was beautiful and, having a camera at hand, decided to stop and capture it. My gas light came on close to Nebraska City. I stopped for gas at the cluster of stations right before I-29. I pressed "yes" for the receipt but the machine never spit it out.

Mile or mile and a half into I-29 South I decided to fiddle with the radio and looked down at the dial. A split second later I looked up to see a deer coming from my left, followed by a loud "thump" and the force of intersecting momentums. All in a few seconds.

I drove a quarter or half mile in a suspended-animation state of disbelief before stopping to inspect the damage. My door wouldn't open very much. I squeezed through and found the handle broken and door dented, along with the front left side. Force destroyed the headlight, but it still functioned. The impact screwed up my axle and suspension. A bit of blood was smeared on the hood and slobber still covered my eye-level portion of the windshield.

Still slightly dazed, I called mom. In a rather calm tone I told her what happened. As I spoke with her, I casually tugged at the bottom of my shirt and felt something sticky. What the...  Looking down, I found hair and pieces of Bambi's relative on my "Save Our Forests" shirt.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. "Mom, some of the deer on me."

"What?"

"Bits of the deer are on my shirt."

I hung up and tried to open my door to squeeze back in. That's when I saw where the blood had come from. Little bits of the deer- fur, blood, what I thought to be some flesh- where lightly smeared in the door frame. I rubbed it when I got out. I climbed through the passenger side instead.

Back on the road, half-hour later, a gas stop. I popped my trunk, grabbed my suitcase, found a shirt, marched in the ladies' room and changed out of my slightly bloodied shirt. That's when I found the blood came from a tick, whose home used to be on the deer.

Throughout this whole incident I was calm. It wasn't the "everything-is-peaceful" feeling, but rather a very subdued version of shock. I'm not sure what that is called. Maybe it was because I was OK and I could, would get home.

Before taking off again I called a friend while in the parking lot and related my unfortunately eventful trip. I don't know why I called him. He couldn't do anything for me. Thinking back on it I probably needed to process.

On my own, I wondered if I accidentally set-up my own collision course. If this would've happened had something been different. Had I...
Woken up earlier
Focused on what I needed at Target
Bought the graduation card and crickets before Sunday
Remembered to pack my frisket paper and spray paint
Left on time or even a few minutes before
Not stopped to take a picture of the sunset
Filled up before traveling
Not waited for the gas pump to print a receipt that never came...

I probably would have missed the deer and my car would be fine.

****

Next morning I photographed the evidence of last night's accident. As I clicked away, two guys walked past me and asked if someone had done that. I told them I hit a deer.

"Well, glad you're OK," one noted.

I am too. This affects part of my summer travel plans, but it's OK. My car made it in less than one piece. Ferdie and I are home in one. That's the most important part of this wreck.

In case of another emergency, I would not be able to get out.

I drove it home with one-ish headlight.

Yes. That's blood. And if you look closely, there is deer slobber on the windshield.

Bambi bits.

Ticks clung to my shirt for life.