Moo - Part 2
Be sure and read Part 1 below if you have not...
The first thing I did was say a bad word. Just one.
I make this confession without remorse, because not only did I have no control over the escaping expletive but it was an accurate expression of how I was feeling at that fateful instant.
A few seconds later I had regained all faculties and, this being the case, I frantically started searching for flash lights. I had three in my back seat, and they were desperately needed.
When a dead black cow is in the middle of a curvy, unlined, black road on a black, moonless night, flashlights come in handy.
Two cars had hit the animal before me (both cars totaled) and there were three near misses before I found the lights.
I handed one to the police officer, who had just arrived on the scene in response to the first collision.
“This is a nice torch!” he said, walking out into the road and waving off oncoming traffic with my favorite headlamp.
“Thank you,” I said, not really meaning it. I wanted to go home, and I was not going home any time soon.
After a few minutes of waving my three lights at approaching cars, there was a large enough crowd to drag the mega-cow from the road.
With the large, lifeless hazard in a less hazardous spot, I had time to point the light at my car.
The police officer, my Petzl headlamp in hand, came up behind me.
“Did you hit it?”
I inspected the broken right headlight, the horn-shaped dent in the hood, the horned-colored scrape inside the horn-shaped dent, and I said, “Yep, I did.”
“Can it drive?”
I inspected the right front tire, which looked fine. I moved over to the left one, and it looked fine as well. However, according to the right tire, the car was turning sharply to the right. According to the left, the car was poised to hang a left. I stood up, walked over to the steering wheel, and with additional disappointment noted that its intended direction was straight ahead.
“Nope. It can’t drive.”
To be continued...