Highway to Mommy and Daddy
Our love started on the beaches of Panama City, Florida, on Spring break, just like many of the other young adults on vacation without parents for the first time. After coming back home our connection didn’t feel as strong because he lived in Houston, and I went to school in San Marcos, TX. Roughly a two and a half hour drive apart. It was far, but there were a few times when we couldn’t wait any longer, and we would drive half way. If you can do the math, it was only a 1 hour and 15 minute drive to our halfway meeting spot, which was a Whataburger parking lot. We would just hang out and watch Netflix on my iPad, until it was time to leave for work or for class.
On This particular night, it was a Friday night. Working as a server I was somehow able to give up some of my shifts and was free for the weekend. I planned to drive to Houston as a surprise visit and hang out with him for the weekend. I didn’t plan on visiting anyone else, not even my family.
It was 9:45 p.m. when I decided I was going to part. “Are you sure you wanna go right now?” my roommate Elijah questioned with concern. “Yeah!” I answered confidently. Elijah then paused and in his unsure voice he replied, “Okay, but call me if you need anything.” Sensing his concern, then ignoring his concern, I hopped into my spacious 2007 Saturn Vue, who’s name was Betsy. Betsy was a used, but roomy cross-over vehicle. A nice gray leather interior, tall inside, and it also had a sunroof that I occasionally used when smoking a joint. It was pretty late, but I was experienced at driving at night, and had driven at even later times before, so I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I gassed Betsy up and packed her with a couple things, like my toothbrush, a couple pairs of underwear, and 2 days worth of t-shirts and Nike shorts. My usual getup.
As I’m driving out of San Marcos, I passed the only Burger King in town. Usually, I would stop and indulge in a Hershey pie or maybe a chocolate sundae, but the excitement of getting to see him was overwhelming, and my foot pressed the gas. It was okay because I raided Elijah’s stash of popcorn before leaving. The night grew darker as I left the town going towards i10 (the main road). The street went from five lanes, to four to just two, that’s when I knew the road trip was starting. The drive from San Marcos to i10 was a relatively short one, about 30 minutes with no stops. It’s through a dark, two-lane road; there were no traffic lights. The road, surrounded by big trees, home to wildlife and winding rivers. It was quite peaceful during the day but spooky at night.
There I was, 20 years old, driving down this two-lane road. It was incredibly dark, especially when there were no cars coming or going, just me. Any scary thought could creep me out, but I tried not to get too in my head and psych myself out. I stuck my hand into the bag of popcorn and popped the velvety cheesy kernels into my mouth. Turned the music on loud to tune out my thoughts. My Spotify was on shuffle, and it played all of the songs I didn’t want to listen to. Looking for something more upbeat, some hip hop instead of Coldplay, I reached over for my phone, still no car in sight, I felt secure to look type out N-I-C-K-I M-I-N-A-J. I looked up from my phone and far too late to stop, there was a big body deer in front of Betsy. I tried. The deer must of been 5 feet, trying to get to the other side of the road before being struck by my Saturn Vue. I hit his behind, and missed his head and neck. My car ricocheted and the deer’s feces splattered on my windshield, and hood. The smell was foul. My phone fell to the ground of the passenger seat. I was one hundred percent not stopping on the side of this lonely, eerie road just to make a phone call. Because I was in the middle of nowhere, with no light and no help, I kept driving. The nearest gas station was off i-10 and only about 15 more minutes away. I didn’t stop until I got there. Tears running down my face, and I felt truly alone.
My face lit up, it literally lit up as I approached the bright gas station lights of the Love’s pit stop. I bolted out of my seat, slammed the door, to find my hood completely jammed and my headlight hanging by a single cable. I was in awe. “My parents are going to kill me” I thought. Elijah was the first person I called. In a worried voice he made sure I was okay and asked if I was still planning on making the remaining two hour trip to Houston. At that point, I really wanted to go back to my apartment, but I needed my father. I needed my family.
As I pulled into the gas station, an older gentleman was there pumping gas into his pick up truck. I rushed inside the gas station looking for tape. All they had was clear packing tape. I figured, “It’ll do.” I walked outside in disappointment as I faced my reality and looked at Betsy’s busted face covered in deer crap. Hopeless. I walked over and grabbed the self-serve squeegee. The water it was sitting in was cloudy, but my windshield couldn’t look any worse. I was able to wipe most of the deer feces off my view. Now it was time for the big task. I picked up the droopy headlight carefully since it was barely hanging on. I found the end of the tape and stretched it, then proceeded to cut a large piece with my teeth. Taped it, then did it again. It wasn’t working as I thought it would. Before getting too frustrated, the older gentleman noticed my situation. I proceeded to tell him what happened, and he found it astonishing that the airbags didn’t release when the impact happened. “If it weren’t for this bulbar (bar in the front of trucks) you would of been stuck in a completely different situation. You are lucky!” This was far from what I was feeling. He looked in his truck and pulled out gray, heavy-duty duct tape and did a beautiful job at temporarily placing and taping the light back on its original spot. “Be safe,” the old man said as I hopped back in my car and went on my way.
I was lucky. After realizing the airbag sensors didn’t go off because the bullbar was there to absorb most of the impact of the deer, it was hard to hold back the tears. I would have been stuck in the middle of nowhere, probably unconscious, and all alone. If it wasn’t for that kind, old handyman, pumping gas at the exact same time that I was there, I would have probably not been confident enough to drive back to my apartment let alone continue a two- hour drive to Houston. I called my mother and cried, “Hey mom, I ran over a deer on my way to home. I was planning on surprising you guys,” I lied, as if what had just transpired wasn’t bad enough. “What!” I then heard her murmur to my father, “She hit a deer.” “Are you okay to drive?” And, even though she was shocked, she urged me to come home. On my ride back home, I thought and played out different scenarios in my head that would have avoided me ramming into that giant deer. It was a quiet ride; I didn’t even want to look at my phone, let alone play music. For what? So it can distract me? Instead I drove alone in my thoughts and thankfulness. I pulled up to my home and they were there, my mom and dad at 1 a.m. waiting on me with open arms and forgiveness. They were grateful that I had made it home safe, and so was I.