Two friends and I planned a road trip to Chicago, and it couldn’t have fallen into place more perfectly. We planned to leave TCNJ Thursday afternoon, drive through the night in order to have the whole day to explore, and then attend a Young The Giant concert that evening. It was going to be the ideal weekend to escape heavy loads of schoolwork and post-midterm stress.
Now, none of us girls are big baseball fans, so we knew nothing of the upcoming World Series. We had booked our concert tickets for November 4 over a month in advance, yet we never imagined that the Chicago Cubs would win the World Series for the first time in 108 years just days before we were to arrive. What a wild weekend would follow this legendary win! If we made it through the night, we might even make the parade in time! Greta, Ieva, and I were all too excited to grasp the bull by its horns and take the city as our own.
We loaded up the 2002 yellow Volkswagen bug that would take us 800 miles cross-country with blankets, water, and snacks to keep us fueled through the night. The night flew by in an array of headlights and laughter, one hour melting into the next. Between deep conversations and playing old throwbacks as blurred lights sped by, we all knew this was going to be an unforgettable weekend. And it would certainly live up to that expectation, just not in the way we had imagined.
We took shifts napping and I, being the prominent sleep-lover of the group, didn’t turn down the chance to take the first shift. I was quickly lulled to sleep by the hum of the car and woke up at 2am to the sight of Greta pumping gas by herself for the first time. This was it, our first big step into the world. We can pump gas now.
After having more than my fair share of a nap, it was my turn to drive. I moved the seat up, adjusted the mirrors, and zipped off onto Interstate 80 in Ohio. The road was particularly dark and a heavy fog hung in front of us, but we were more than half way to Chicago and on time to make the World Series parade. We all buzzed in the car with excitement for the oncoming day, despite being in the small hours of the morning, and man, could that bug fly on the highway.
Suddenly we were yanked from our delighted daze into a paralyzing panic of reality. One second the road was completely empty, the next second it was lethally brimming with one occupant too many. Just for an inaudible moment the world moved in slow motion as we watched a deer dart across the road in front of us, and then it was a hyperactive blur: a loud thud, a scream, and squealing tires. I couldn’t see anything except the melting of trees and road as the back tires spun out from side to side. Gripping, gripping, gripping the wheel like it was the last thing I would ever hold. I don’t know who was screaming. Was it me? Greta? Ieva? All of us? The car seemed to pull away from my control, rag dolling us to opposite sides of the road in just seconds. Are there other cars coming? What if we can’t stop? What if we roll? Is the deer still in the road? What do I do? As we veered toward the side and I slammed on the breaks with one last plea for life, we skid to a halt. It was all over in less than 15 seconds.
For a moment we sat in pure shock, but as a car sped by we were yanked back into reality. A quick breath and then we were all right into action; making calls, taking pictures, checking the car. It was an almost out-of-body experience because my mind was still hearing the thud and seeing the deer while my mouth was mechanically speaking to the state trooper. The entire left side of our bug was smashed in, hair and spatters of the deer left behind, along with the hopes for our Chicago trip.
Just 30 seconds earlier or later and we could have missed the deer, if we were just one lane over or ten miles slower. Our whole weekend, our concert, our parade had disappeared in a matter of 15 seconds. We were closer to Chicago than New Jersey, but the damage to the car was too bad to risk the drive. So all we could do was sit and let everything sink in.
“I know it sucks to see your baby all beat up,” said the state trooper, “but it could be worse.”
We looked at him, and then at each other. We were going to miss our Young The Giant concert, sell the tickets, have to refund the money for our hotel, and miss out on the wildest weekend Chicago after a 108-year baseball dry spell. ‘It could be worse.’ With no scratches, broken bones, or any injuries, we had escaped unscathed and intact, which is a lot more than the deer could say. Of course we didn’t want to miss our concert or a crazy weekend in Chicago, but that deer could have gone through our windscreen or the Volkswagen bug could have been squished just as badly as the deer by an oncoming car, but none of that happened. Instead, we had a flood of calls coming from loved ones to check in on us, even at 4 in the morning, and the ability to walk away and wake up tomorrow.
I learned a lot of things in those 15 seconds, and I can tell you that perspective is the most important thing. Sure, our trip didn’t go quite as planned, but everyone made it out safe. We could dwell on the possibilities of the past or future, or on the reinforced bonds of friendship that only occur when you realize in 15 seconds that these are the last faces you might ever see. There are only so many people who can say they sat at a Denny’s diner 500 miles from home at 6am after hitting a deer while travelling 75 miles an hour on the way to Chicago after a World Series championship. As we ate our pancakes with all the fellow truck drivers, we couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that of all the themes that Denny’s could have had, this one was covered in Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer décor. Deer, of course. Life has a strange way of changing our perspectives, but I like to think that everything happens for a reason. While we were still slightly scarred from the experience, we had a new kindling desire to make another Chicago trip that was even bigger and better.
But next time, we’re flying.