The First Deer of the Season
My boyfriend and I were caravaning on Route 460 in Virginia, on our way to his parents' house at the beginning of our Thanksgiving break from college. He was traveling in the right lane, just ahead of me. I was traveling in the left lane.
I saw something moving to my right, and noticed a doe running across the highway, barely missing the rear of my boyfriend's car. Unfortunately, she didn't stop, and she ran right into the passenger side of my car.
My boyfriend and I both pulled over. I wasn't injured, but my car sure was. There were two sizable dents in the passenger side of my car. The deer lay dead on the side of the highway.
My boyfriend, being a hunter, wanted to salvage the meat, so he and I loaded the doe into the hatch of my Chevy Citation. I drove the remaining two hours of my trip with my windows down.
After we arrived at my boyfriend's parents' house, he and his father attempted to dress the deer, but the deer was so bruised that no meat was salvagable. I was lauded, however, for getting the first deer of the season, even if it wasn't with a rifle.