The way I have been telling this: Friday morning I tried to ungulate the verb “to drive”.
I was driving home to load the car with luggage, Othello, and Bridgette, when a deer bounded out of a bushy fir tree and dashed across the road. I had a few car lengths to slow down a bit, which left me with the hood crumpled, a headlight out of alignment and out of order, the grill mounting sheared, and a tiny buckling in the frame. The deer kept going. Tough critter.
It’s probably just as well, in spite of my animosity for all things deer-shaped, that it was well enough to leave the area. There really wasn’t time to learn to clean and dress the carcass, if it had been considerate enough to leave one, and still get to Orycon. I’m just pleased the car was still operable.
Best of all, the care worked well enough to get us to our date with smokeyal8r in a timely fashion.
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry