I'm Just Saying…

March 13, 2012

The Deer That Ate a Honda

Filed under: Uncategorized — jillamyrosenblatt @ 11:09 pm
Tags: , , , ,

            It all begins with a thought.

            Let me explain.

            It is a well known fact that once you become conscious of a thing, that thing changes.

            Let me clarify.

            Some months ago, I took a minor inventory of my life (something I no longer do…if it ain’t broke, and all that…) I noted that my life had a certain amount of “sameness” to it. I rode the same highway to work each day; back and forth, every day. I followed a daily routine. Subconsciously, it registered: nothing happens in my life. Faster than a speeding bullet, I took it back.  

            Too late. It was already out there. Too late I remembered Gordon Gekko’s words of wisdom: “nothing” is good, “nothing” works.

            Flash forward to the morning in question. Here’s what you need to know:

            There are deer on Long Island. It’s not that I didn’t know that but other than functioning as a host for disease carrying ticks, I didn’t pay much attention to them.

            This is what I learned:

            Deer have a season when they are “in the mood for love.” This makes them do things that are unwise. See next paragraph.

            Deer have been known to spring across the East/West lanes of Sunrise Highway early in the morning. This was news to me. I don’t see why living my whole life in one geographic area requires me to have the factoids of a tour guide at my disposal. I’m just saying.

            So there I am, driving westbound on Sunrise Highway when all of a sudden a deer, a doe to be exact,  sails over from the eastbound lane. No doubt she had just made a run for an Egg McMuffin after a little early morning delight. Beats smoking a cigarette.

            And one more factoid you can tuck away for a rainy day: deer don’t look both ways before  crossing.

            The deer lights down in front of my car. I hit the deer. I slam on my brakes. “Jane Doe” flips over onto her back, her legs sticking up in the air. On a clear Friday morning at nine a.m. I am staring out of my windshield…at hooves.

            Bummer.

            No other cars were involved. The drivers behind me saw Jane jump the divider and avoided me like Ebola. Sure, shun the deer slayer. Very nice.

            A police officer arrives. I get an immediate reading of eight on the Hotness Scale. I check my hair and makeup in the rearview mirror as he approaches the vehicle. Who said women can’t multi-task in a crisis situation? Really? Really?

            We survey the damage. The front end is crumpled and the puddle on the ground tells me my radiator has gone night-night… the deer guts are not attractive either.

            My hottie lawman is strong and comforting and stays with me for a while. I don’t embarrass myself by purring “I love a man in uniform.” When he leaves he does not say “Marry me? We’ll tell our kids we met when you rammed your two thousand pound vehicle into a helpless animal.” We part company.

            Bummer.

            I read the field report. I am the victim of a “10.10,” “Car vs. Deer.”

            There’s no need for sarcasm.

            I congratulate myself. I now use police “lingo” like an expert. Wistfully, I imagine my “hunka hunka burning love” law enforcement officer will be sorry he let me get away. The tow truck arrives. I watch as my car is hoisted onto the flatbed like a useless bucket of bolts.

            I forget the cop.

            A co-worker comes to pick me up.

            Even in my shocked stupor, I manage to remember my recent musing on the “sameness” of my life. I must have caught the Gods as they just got back from their coffee break. They heard me.

            Double bummer.

            Is that the end of my story? Yes and no. Here is the moral of my story with a bit of advice:

            One of the first questions well meaning, concerned people ask is, “How’s your windshield?” Apparently, it is normal for deer to pull an Evel Knievel and soar through the windshield. Something else I didn’t know and didn’t need to know. I am treated to countless horror stories of “car vs. deer” incidents. I spend the next weeks mulling my mortality, obsessing over my narrow escape from death or disfigurement. So people, please don’t freak out the driver with stories of deer destruction  unless you’re prepared to share your Xanax.

            And, can we go easy on the deer ‘n’ sympathy? For the record, yes, I feel bad about the deer. I’m sorry she’s venison. But enough already with “oh, the poor thing.” If you just got done telling me I’m lucky I’m not getting nourishment through a tube in my nose,  please give the Bambi pity party a rest. I still have nightmares about wearing a Phantom mask, and skulking around the bowels of the Opera house ’cause I can’t be seen in daylight.

             Now, the moral of my story is this: if you’re ever tempted to start consciously thinking about a situation, be prepared for a cosmic shift. I’ve learned my lesson. As far as I’m concerned, a good day is when someone asks “What’s new with you?” and I answer “Same old, same old.” It’s certainly better than the alternative. Those karmic “deer leaping in front of the car” scenarios can seriously screw up a morning commute—and a few other things. I’m just saying.

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