Magic Deer, Bambi, and the Kind That Hit You

Once, when I was in Canada, I wrote a poem. It was about a deer. It goes like this.

Dead deer, Dead deer,
You're dead I fear.

I portrayed my feelings so poignantly, I didn't feel much need to expand. Today, I think I better understand the meaning of that eloquently written poem. Today, I got hit by a deer.

I mean, it's not the greatest thing to happen right before an interview, but what's getting hit by a deer if not inconvenient? You won't find anyone waking up in the morning thinking, "Today will be the day! That deer will finally hit me." Maybe if it were a magic deer. But I've digressed. Here's what happened:

I'd been driving up Little Cottonwood Canyon on the way to my second interview at the Church History Vault. I was feeling pretty good, just prepping myself by singing along to Jack's Mannequin and looking at the road, which is why I probably didn't see it coming. The deer came at me from the side, and before I knew what was really happening, it was swerving right into the side of my car. It all happened so fast, I didn't even have time to react. I pulled off the road (while the car behind me drove on, perfectly aware of what had just happened), and looked at the deer, who was lying motionless on the side of the road. I then moved around the other side of my car to see the damage. The right side was streaked with fur and blood, and the whole back door was dented in, along with the side mirror, and just above the tire.
Well, I called my Mom and started to cry as I turned my car around until I was just across the street from the deer. A nice man pulled over too, to see if I was okay, and we watched the deer for a little bit until it sat up and stumbled back into the brush. This would be the end of my story, except for Stella (my car) decided to take a crack at me by acting like she was in neutral when she was really in drive. I turned the car on and off a couple times before she finally came to, and I finished the last stretch up to the Vault. The interview went well, and I ended up getting the job, but the moment was outshone by the already eventful morning.

Stella's in the shop now, and, apart from her bashed in side, is apparently running fine. Poor car, she's seen some days. But she'll live to see better days. I'm not sure if I can say the same for the deer. Maybe she'll look both ways the next time she tries to cross the street. Needless to say, I won't be there next time she does.