This has been a year of seemingly near-death experiences for me.
Over the summer, I shared my almost deadly experience with a jar of beans with readers, but that story pales in comparison to my adventure earlier this month.
We have a regular group of people who get together on Wednesday evenings for a time to relax and watch television, gossip about community goings-on and to share a meal. Every now and then, we'll take it on the road, so in early October, we decided to go to Maggiano's in Charlotte because I had a $10 off coupon.
It happened to be rainy and driving there made me very nervous. We pulled off the side of the road to make sure everything was OK after hearing a strange noise.
Actually, we did it twice. We were all a little spooked.
What are the odds, in the middle of a drought, for it to rain cats and dogs on a Wednesday night?
Well, it was evidently raining significantly larger animals, too, as you'll see.
We arrived at the restaurant, had a wonderful meal, then walked a few steps over to the Cheesecake Factory and ate dessert. We finished around 11 p.m. and began driving back in the rain.
At which point, I should introduce you to our trusty navigator, Kathryn. She has Google Maps on her BlackBerry.
Unfortunately, she reads them upside down, backwards and sideways.
Our other passengers include Justin and a giant bag of dog food on the other side of the back seat.
The navigator missed a turn.
Then we missed another.
And then she told us to take a right instead of a left, maybe even a left instead of a right. We stopped for gas, asked for directions and got going in the right direction. While we were turning around, Justin attempted to become a backseat driver, or so I thought. Cranky after getting lost and stressed out in the rain, I retorted, “I do have a license, you know.”
Immediate regret (and an apology).
We make it to Matthews.
It’s still dark and rainy, but we’re almost to I-485. We round a curve in a mixed residential-business area and bang — we hear a gunshot from close range, the back window busts and glass flies everywhere.
Scared, I begin calling 911.
“Um, ma’am, I think our car has been shot into,” I tell the operator.
Calm at first, I start shaking on the inside as I pull off at a Mexican restaurant a few blocks away, far enough that the shooters won’t chase us, I think.
We stay in the car until four police cars with K-9 officers in tow come blaring into the parking lot. We all get out and the police begin investigating.
One walks over to the back “shot-out” window.
“Um, ma’am, was this fur here before?”
Fur???
Deer fur.
Embarrassment pelts the three of us and we start laughing hysterically.
It’s not funny, but after the scare we’ve had, it’s hilarious.
And it’s an experience the three of us won’t soon forget.
And the irony of all this is that I started working on a Web page for shelbystar.com that focuses on deer-car crashes only days before my incident.
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