O Deer!

by Edith Hall Friedheim

It was an especially balmy and beautiful Indian Summer evening. We were driving north from Toronto to spend a few days at the Inn at Manitou, a gorgeous five-star resort on a lake in the vacation region of Muskoka.  After several days rushing around Toronto we needed peace and tranquility.  But it was not to be.

Canadian roads are well marked and easy to navigate, or so we thought. The road map from the folks at Budget directed us onto a luxurious eight-lane superhighway with a metal divider in the middle running the entire length of this stretch to ensure that nothing, nobody, could make the mistake of driving the wrong way.

Or so we thought.

I was born with the speeding gene, an inherited family trait like fat thighs or bad gums and especially active when the speed limit boasts a blatant 70 mph. (Some of us take that as a sign of encouragement). So this particular evening as dusk was beginning to cover the Canadian landscape and our speedometer was inching up to nearly 85, all seemed right with the world.

Then suddenly and without warning a large deer appeared from nowhere - having jumped over the metal divide and across all eight lanes - and smashed into the side of the car.  Acting on instinct I veered right to avoid it but the impact had ripped off the side-view mirror and seriously damaged the car, not to mention the animal!

By some miracle we survived with nothing more than shattered nerves. We exited the highway and pulled over. So did a truck driver who had seen the accident and was offering to help. (Canadians are very civilized.) Together we drove back to find what was left of the deer. I didn’t feel sorry enough. After all, he had it coming. Our lives had been endangered, our car badly bruise d, our schedule disrupted.

The one that did not get Away

Only much later did I begin to wonder ...... Which of us really belonged in that setting, which of us really had the right to be there at that moment in the Canadian wilderness?

When the time came to return our battered rental car to Budget in Toronto, we braced ourselves for the worst.  No question we’d be held responsible for the damage.

Or so we thought.

Instead, the agent nonchalantly assured us that accidents such as ours happened with great frequency. Not to worry. Happy ending. Except for the deer. 

Recently I learned there are devices called deer bells that attach to cars and emit the most ghastly sounds ostensibly to scare off the animals. I wish the folks at Budget had done their research. But then there'd have been no story.

Edith Hall Friedheim is a NewYork based  travel writer who is an excellent driver. She can defend herself against New York cab drivers who are not smart enough to stay out of her way.

Read her stories on www.travellady.com, and  www.teaAtlas.com  She also writes for travel trade books and co-authored the book  NAME OF BOOK.

Before she started traveling the world, she was a concert pianist who performed at Carnegie Hall