Impact & Memory

Have you ever experienced an accident or situation that you survived unscathed, and can't really explain just how exactly that happened? I did, just about a year ago, and I recall that account here. 

It was a dark and stormy night...truly. Actually, it was last October, and there was a break in a recent band of rain. The breeze was strong enough that the roads were mostly dry, just in time for more rain to come through later in the night. 

I was en route home around 8 p.m. It's rutting season, and the deer are more active and prone to unpredictably jump out in their tunnel vision quest to mate. Having lived in sparsely populated suburban and rural areas since becoming a licensed driver, I have always been cognizant of this. It was no different this night, as it was the perfect time for them to be out with the break in the weather. I clicked on my high beams on a particularly dark stretch of road without street lights. My eyes constantly scan all sides of the road in search for anything that's moving, especially if it's not another car. From a bit further up ahead. I catch the unmistakable glow of eyes staring back in my direction, immediately slowing down as I took notice, dropping from the posted speed limit of 50 to about 40. 

Then, as these things always do, everything happens in a flash, but also in slow motion. Still braking, I approach and see the first deer scamper from the grassy median across the road, the car about 5 or 6 feet away at this point. My attention immediately focuses on the second deer. Its only mission is to follow the first one, and nothing is going to stop it. I brake harder now, desperately trying to avoing the inevitable impact. I don't have any other reaction time to honk or swerve; that wouldn't have mattered anyhow. The hit is square in the middle of the deer's torso,  hard and jarring as the car skids slightly and jerks forward. Instinctively. I brace for airbag deployment, which does not happen. 

The deer, at this point, has been thrust airborne. As often as I try to recall this part, and now matter how much I try to dig into the memory bank, I cannot explain what happens next. The deer comes back down to land, striking, but not crashing through the windshield with a sound that I'll never forget. How? There is a loud scraping sound on the roof of the car, which upon inspection I'll later determine was a hoof that's left a considerable dent. But right now, I am full of adrenaline and shock. My limbs are shaky. I've broken into a cold sweat. The urge to vomit quickly rises, but I reflexively tamp that down. The car is is completely still now, but I am vaguely aware of my right foot pressing the brake with such force, it feels like I could step through the floorboard. My leg muscles are screaming at me for doing so, but I do not ease up off the brake. 

The whole time, I have had no cars anywhere around or behind me. I know that will not last, as it's the exit off of Route 70. I quickly focus my attention to assess for initial signs of damage. Other than the reflexive reactions, am I ok? I quickly scan over my body and realize I am fine. Now, the car. The engine is still running and there are no signs of smoke or fire. The dashboard is lit up as normal. I pull forward 15 or 20 feet to pull off the road and onto the shoulder to safely get out of the car and check the damage.

My legs are wobbly and a bit unstable as I step out of the car, and my thoughts returns to the deer for a moment. Traffic is approaching from a distance now. I do not see it in the road, and cars are not swerving to avoid anything. It happened just mere seconds ago, but my memory is already hazily recalling seeing the deer slide off the slope of the car on the passenger side, and falling out of view. I can only assume it ran off into the woods beyond the road. It either stumbled there to die, or was somehow not injured enough to even stop, found its footing and ran off. I'll never know. 

I inspect the front of the car. Not surprisingly, the the hood sustained the most damage. I can see the dents, but am shocked it's not worse, and that the car otherwise looks untouched. The windshield has no visible cracks to show. How? The headlights are still running, although the driver side encasement is broken. I listen to the engine still idling and can't hear anything out of the ordinary, although it's possible that something was damaged under the hood. I get back in the car, my legs needing to rest. I mull it over.  I am only a few miles from home, and decide to take it slow and just try to get home without intervention. I make it there without issue, likely crawling at 20 MPH the whole time. 

I suppose it's possible that the passage of time has skewed my memory and recollection of this, but I still don't quite understand it. We're not designed or meant to remember a convergence of such detail, perhaps as a defense mechanism to keep up us from reliving it exactly as it occurred. How that deer went airborne and came crashing down on the windshield, but not cracking it on impact, or crashing directly through it. 

In the days following the accident and speaking to insurance adjuster, I was expecting him to tell me that they found something wrong with the windshield that required repair  or replacement. Nothing was found, not even the seal. He assured me it had not been compromised at all. Even as I compose this, I cannot explain it. 

I'm not necessarily a person that ascribes to religious persuasion or dogma, but I do believe in some spiritual or outside forces that cannot otherwise be explained. Something was with or watching over me that night. I can't speak to what that is, and that doesn't necessarily need to be explored or known. Perhaps the entire point of that experience was for me to deduce that, or to to remind me of it. Either way, it is now with me, and I will never forget that. I'm grateful that it wasn't much worse, as I know it could have been, and was actually expecting it. Miraculous event? Undoubtedly. 

The inexplicably minor damage the car sustained. Happy to report El Diablo Azul (The Blue Devil) lived to ride another day. 💙