So there I was, heading back from a doctor’s appointment at lunchtime. The road ahead of me was clear, and my thoughts wandered to my job. Had a grant I was working on, nearing deadline. Needed tweaking, here and there, to make the narrative more compelling. I was playing around with language my mind, but alert as ever.

Without warning, a whizzing mass of fur streaked in front of my car. A deer played chicken with my Honda, for reasons known only to it. I had absolutely no time to swerve or break. One heart-stopping moment later, I heard and felt a BOOM! Pieces of my car flew into the air, but strangely enough, the deer vanished from view.

Every single light on my dashboard blinked on, warning me that the lifeblood of my car might be in short supply. The wheels continued to turn, a good sign that I’d be able to make the seven miles back to my house. I flipped on the hazards and drove ever so slowly, paranoid that revenge might be taken from one of the deer’s brethren.

Now, I’ve driven down this particular road a bazillion times. I’ve seen deer aplenty, and there is more than one warning road sign. My eyes are always sharp for these dim-witted creatures, even on the day of the incident. My only conclusion to this tragedy is Mr./Ms. Deer experienced a devastating life event and chose to end it all.

A close friend of mine had a similar experience a few years back, on the same road, in nearly the same place (it’s cursed, I tell ya!). This time, she hit the deer with such force it flew up into the air and landed on the other side of the road. Her car ceased to function. Someone pulled up behind her. A witness, perhaps? He got out of his Ford F-150 and said, “Hey, do you think you want that deer? Because if you don’t, I’ll take it.” Yes, seriously. Never asked how she was doing, is she okay, is there anyone you want me to call.

I managed to hold myself together until I pulled into the driveway. Checked out the damage. Ugh. My car…my CAR!!! Ran my fingers down the cracks and dents. The ruined grill. The popped-out lights. The chasm revealing my window washer fluid. My stomach curled.

Pulled out the GEICO policy and gave the toll-free number a call. A maddening cheerful AI voice tells me I can sort out this whole process quicker if I go online. I yell back that I want a person. Sure, AI says in its best customer service manner, but first I have to go through this entire laundry list of options. By the time I actually speak to a live person, I’m a wreck. The woman (real, this time) asks if I’m okay. That’s when I start crying. She calms me down (honestly, she was terrific!) and we get onto business. By the time I’ve finished with her, I receive instructions to photograph my car’s damage to send to their assessor, and there’s a car waiting for me at the rental store.

The friend who knew all too well about bashing into a deer took me to fetch my new vehicle. All they had left on the lot was a ridiculously large GMC thing, the kind of SUV you can fit a small village inside. But I was so grateful to have a Sherman tank to drive that I knew this thing would be impervious to deer dashes.

After I emptied my bank account to fill the tank, I called the rental store and asked them very nicely to please give me a much smaller vehicle if one ever comes in. They do, about a week later, and this time it’s a Ford SUV. It has turbo. The slightest touch on the gas pedal sends it flying. I’ve driven turbos before – even had one – but this Ford’s turbo is out of control. So’s the steering. It’s constantly pulling to the left, even when I want to go right. It’s like driving with my mother – never quite knowing how to get someplace, but if you make enough turns you’ll eventually wind up where you want to be.

It took two weeks for the collision repairs to be made. One morning, as I sat at my desk working, my phone rang. The repair shop called to tell me my Honda was ready. Not a moment too soon! I headed over, anxious to see if my car resembled the one I knew pre-accident. Sure enough, I pull up and there it is – as cheery cherry red as ever. The artists who worked on my car did a brilliant job. One would never, ever know it was damaged in any way. There’s some paperwork to be done and I pay for the repairs with the money GEICO provided.

I pull open the door to my car and sit inside. It’s like reuniting with a sick friend who just got out of the hospital and is better than new. The engine turned over. I could swear I heard it say, as it warmed up for a moment, “Let’s go home.”

So we did.