Today at the end of class, we all sat around telling driving stories, as our instructor has been in defensive driving. Mostly who ran into what when and how big it was.
That sounds so much more porny than it really was. *sighs* I've been a porn writer too long.
Top Five, in no particular order:
3.) Deer (responsible for nine deaths a year, no less)
Yeah, vultures. Exactly twenty percent of my class has, in fact, had a head-on collision with a vulture. I don't know the Vegas odds on that. I don't *want* to know the odds on that. Because that just sounds--yeah.
I aspire to have a boring driving record, so I could not contribute to the proceedings, much to my dismay. How sad. But my, did I get a kick out of this.
I'll tell you a story.
Once upon a time, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, Bill Gates didn't exist, and people drove really large, Batman-like cars on a daily basis, a Very Young Woman and her friend went for a drive through the deep, dark woods.
Whilst they drove, speaking of we know not what, but probably how glad they'd be when that entire equality thing kicked into gear and they could get out of their corsets, a something in the road. Very Young Lady gave a very unlady-like squawk, believing she'd hit A Fellow Human Being. She was all for crawling out of the car and giving aid to the tragically dead. Because man, at the speed they were going? We're not talking a single intact body here.
Other Lady, being more practical, checked the odometer, measured the likelihood of all those really disturbing fairy tales about ladies out at night in the woods coming true against a dead and possibly dismembered body, and said, drive.
And so they did.
After many, many a mile, they arrived in a tiny, deserted town, where the local sheriff mocked them mightily for their fear of Things They Hit, and gleefully asked when the poor dears had had their misadventure, doubtless believing that they'd merely run over a kitty out on a night stroll.
"22.8 ,miles back," says Other Lady, because see, she'd looked at the odometer.
I like her. A lot.
Anyway, Very Young Lady and Other Lady led Sheriff to the front of their car, where indeedy, there was much mushed-in and blood and--yes, there it was--hair.
Quickly, they drove back down the long, dark, deserted road, surrounded by swaying trees and pretty much believing indictment for felony manslaughter loomed close in their future. Once back, the Sheriff ponderously climbed out and looked about, and when Very Young Lady started to emerge as well, Other Lady lay a hand over hers and said, "No. Wait."
No, Wait, proved to be Defining Words, as the Sheriff let out a muffled yell and brought out his gun and shot at something in the dark.
Other Lady was *right*.
A Very Large Bear lay dead near the side of the road, wounded by car misadventure and dead by bullet, about to charge the car again.
annaface wrote a lovely fic The Tugging Sound, post season three B/J, Brian POV. Slumber party. Just go with it. You'll be glad you did.
emrinalexander has two new installments to Josiah, here and here. On the cuteness. I love this story.
See, this is a good day.
I'm curious. Can anyone beat a *bear* for obscure animals to roadkill?