
Deer run rampant this time of year. I can't travel at night without spotting at least one trying to cross the road at the exact same moment I'm passing by. And I'm not the only one, as evidenced by the carcasses littering the shoulders of highways and streets.
I always feel awful when I pass a dead deer, but I also know how hard it is to avoid hitting them.
My son, who recently got his learner's permit, was always quick to pass judgment on drivers. Everytime we passed a body, he would say things like, '"That's ridiculous. If you go the speed limit and allow enough space, you won't hit the deer," or "There's no excuse for hitting a deer. If you're a good driver, you'd know how to avoid the situation. These people are obviously trying to hit them."
At first I tried to reason with him: "That's easy to say when you're not the one driving" and "Do you really think most people want to hit deer? It's dangerous not only to the animal, but to the people inside the car." And my piece de resistance, "They come out of nowhere," was met by his brutal retort, "Nothing comes out of nowhere!"
I finally accepted the fact that, to a teenager, the stupidest person on the planet is a parent.
So it took great effort to hold back an "I told you so" when, the other night, a deer leaped out near the car when my son was driving. It was the usual scenario ... we're driving the speed limit, maintaining a safe distance when, out of nowhere, a deer was poised to jump in front of the vehicle.
My son handled it well, albeit with a touch of nervousness, as he swerved to avoid the animal. Luckily no one was on the other side of the road or behind us.
I watched as a bead of sweat formed on his brow. When the color returned to his cheeks, he turned toward me and, with a straight face said, "Wow. They really come out of nowhere, don't they?"
Indeed, I thought, they do.