Well, apologies to all for not staying in touch. It has been an exceptionally busy two months culminating in a wrap that the mini-series on TV couldn’t have conjured up more.
After driving 400 miles easily and safely from a long weekend in Bordentown, NJ to 6 miles from home at 5 a m a few weeks ago, a big buck ran into the front of my Chevy Tracker. BOOM! His running partner glazed off the side of the car, knocking the back bumper askew. I had been singing at the top of my lung capacity along with Chuck Jackson, relaxed and having a good ole time knowing I was 5 or 6 minutes from home.
Stunned! I was stunned! I deep-down believed that I would never a catastrophe with a deer. Here were two of them! I don’t mind eating them but to harm one is something else. (that makes no sense but there it is) I instantly felt remorse at bringing this guy down. Actually, he flew into the air (in slo mo) and landed somewhere in the field where he came from.
What to do? I’ve never had an accident. It was 5 a m. Who do I call at that hour? I drove about 60 ft. before pulling over to check the tires; to see whether I could drive home or no. One car did come up the road behind me, drove around me and kept on going. He wasn’t in sight when the deer and I collided.
My poor Betsie (car pet name) looked just awful, yet as she has always done, she would get me home okay. I was fine, no pulled muscles or broken anything on me. I was cool, too. No physical harm to anyone except the poor deer. I instantly pleaded for forgiveness. Then I cautiously (a bit late for that?) drove on home hearing the clinks and clanks of items dropping off the car as we limped homeward like the wounded soldier that she was.