In My Own Little World: Deer in headlights
Readers, it has recently come to my attention that my discussion of chivalry last week has raised some eyebrows (and lowered some IQ levels), and my reaction is “People are actually reading my column? Sweet!” But seriously, discussion and feedback, be it positive or negative, is quite welcome with me.
I am an opinionated person. I share my opinions, and you as the reader choose to either agree with me wholeheartedly and become my best friend and go on fondue dates with me or disagree and write a well-worded, thoughtful, and insightful reply in the Thursday edition of The Towerlight. Those are your only two options. Or you could bake me a batch of peanut butter brownies and mail them to me. Just promise not to poison them.
So suffice it to say I don’t think I’m always right, just most of the time, and I don’t pretend to speak for everyone or even for my generation, because I think I have a very different world view than most of them, a world view that may be “old-fashioned” and “outdated.” And I say that’s OK! You don’t have to agree with me just because I write for the Towerlight.
So that’s all I have to say about that. Hopefully I’ll start a new controversy this week with my discussion of the night that I murdered a deer in cold blood!
The night in question was Tuesday night. Coming home after four hours of focusing lights onto non-existent trees that looked like giant creamsicles.
I was exhausted and hungry and needed a hot shower like a piece of toast needs butter and jam. I stopped at a gas station and saw a guy from my church who was apparently buying a wood stove at a Royal Farms. I didn’t ask questions. I left with a full tank of gas and a head full of dreams, not knowing the horrors that would await me just a few miles from home.
As I was nearing my place of residence, literally less than a minute from my driveway, I saw it. A flash. A blur. A blurry flash. My eyes went wide like a deer in the headlights, except I wasn’t the deer. Before I knew it, Bambi’s very own mother had ascended the hill on the side of the road and come directly into my line of vision.
I had no time to lose. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. My car had become an instrument of death, and the deer had become an instrument of breaking my right headlight and front license plate clean off. I was mortified. “What have I done?” I screamed, but no one replied. They had most likely gone to bed at a normal hour, something that is nigh impossible for a college student. And so it is I alone who bears the burden. I, alone, who has to live with the pain. I, alone, who overdramatizes every event in my life. Oh wait…
So the implications of my experience are clear. We need to implement deer crosswalks. It’s plain and simple. Train the deer to come to specific points in the road, and like a railroad crossing we can have flashing lights that indicate when the deer are about to cross. There could be buttons the deer press to get the lights to flash, and deer crossing guards and a whole system of deer traffic rules. It’s a perfect solution, unless you’re thinking logically, in which case it makes no sense.
Do I think this will happen? No. Does something need to be done about deer running in front of people’s cars and dying? Yes. Am I delusional and hyped up on caffeine? Yes. Am I going to keep asking questions and answering them? Probably not.
So in conclusion, I would not suggest running into a deer. It is not good for you, the deer, your car, or the environment. Perhaps next time, I’ll be chivalrous and let the deer go first. Or something like that.
The random thought of the week is this: It’s all fun and games until someone wants to play the Game of Life. That game takes forever! I much prefer Candy Land or Clue.