Fuckin' Bambi Can EAT MY COCK

Fuckin' Bambi Can EAT MY COCK

I've averaged around 750 miles a week for over a year now. This was going to happen eventually.

Roughly halfway between Muncie and Richmond, Indiana, on SR35, a dark winding little state road I've driven on a zillion times, it all happened so fast I can barely tell you a thing about it, except what I saw afterwards.

Fuckin' deer. In front of me with no time at all to get out of its way. THUNK. And it was gone.

I kept going, totally in shock, David Gilmour still singing about cruise missiles on the stereo. A minute later I heard the wind and the crinkling noise behind me.

The son of a fuck was hit by the front driver's side of the car, then somehow took out the driver's side back seat window behind me.

I got a mile or so up to a yellow flashing light and turned around. No sign of the cocksucker. I turned back and headed south about five miles, trying to find a place to get off the road that wouldn't get me killed by oncoming traffic.

At the interesection of 35 and 36, I pulled into a closed gas station and called home. I was about to call the cops when one showed up.

B is local police for the tiny town I was in. He's only part-time, which I imagine is common in this part of the world.

We tried to determine where the accident happened. 35 north of Losantville passes through three counties in just a few miles - I was in Randolph County. Heading back north, you pass through Henry County for a couple miles, then into Daleware County. He got a Randolph deputy out, who decided that I obviously had been in Henry County when it happened. Or maybe he was not into writing accident reports that night.

The Henry deputy took my license and went back to find the accident scene. He didn't find a trace of it. The goddamn deer was gone. Fuck, and I wanted some burgers. Meanwhile, I had an empty radiator, all the water probably having gone on the ground while still driving - it was dry under the car where it stood. My gauge said it was just short of overheating when I pulled over.

The Henry deputy gave me a small amount of shit (he thought I looked "nervous", I told him I was COLD and didn't have a jacket) then was perfectly easy to get along with. I was lucky - I hadn't had a drop of alcohol and that wasn't going to be an issue. I was totally cooperative (what the fuck ELSE was I going to do?) and they treated me fine. No problems.

I got on the cell to AAA. I lost them once, being on digital roam in the middle of Fuckstain, Indiana. They called back and told me I had 100 miles free towing. I hadn't known this, since it was Sheryl who set this account up - she renewed my AAA even after the divorce, and for that, SHE ROCKS. Let it not be said that my ex-wife doesn't think ahead and try to take care of things. She did NOT have to do this, but she did anyway, knowing how much driving I'd have to do just to see Katie when I was in Indy last year. So yay for her.

And a big "fuck off" to AAA themselves, who called back to tell me that they couldn't find someone to tow me home (Lebanon being under 100 miles away) but had called the local police, who would set me up with a wrecker, and though I'd probably have to pay them cash, they'd reimburse me later. Oh joy. There goes the money for the power bill,.

The local cop who had first shown up came back twice to check on me. The second time, I told him they had called in for a wrecker. He got on the horn and found out they'd done NO SUCH THING. So HE called the wrecker, and then spent 20 minutes bullshitting with me about cop-work, comedians, small-town life, and other stuff. B goes down as the nicest cop I've ever met. Down-home redneck kinda guy, but he's good people.

The wrecker showed up, and it was a guy that B knew. R got my car up on the back of his big fuckin' doohickey, and drove me back to Marion. I gave him my last $141, which AAA is going to reimburse or I will be difficult to communicate with in a pleasant manner.

R is a school teacher by day, and has just gone through a divorce with his wife of 29 years. They had their first court date last week. So we talked about that, and I gave him what little insight I had, probably useless given how different our situations were. but he appreciated it, said so, and did as much as B to remind me that out there in Cornland are some very fine people who will help your ass out at 2AM just because it's the right thing to do. Thank fuck for them, they saved my ass tonight.

I'm fine, if rattled. I came within 3 feet of a deer a year ago, not ten miles from this spot on the same road, at a point in my life when I WANTED to hit something and die. Tonight I wasn't so into dying. I had just finished enjoying a cigar (interesting occasion for me there) and had Gilmour's All Lovers Are Deranged (yes, hello, Amanda) cranked up when fuckin' Bambi had to be beamed aboard, Scotty two inches from my front left bumper with no advance warning. I was all into going home and spenindg tomorrow (today, now) with Katie. Goodbye to that now.

I demonstrated my sobriety to the local cop before he even asked for it, so that wasn't an issue. It might have changed EVERYTHING if I'd been drinking beforehand, and knowing me, that would have been a distinct possibility on any other night. I got lucky this time.

Good people out there in the wilderness. if not for them, I might be in far worse a mental state right now. As it is...fuck it, I'll figure it out later. Time for go to bed, Tor.

Love,
Dougie