It was late on a fall night as the family rolled along the undulating highways of northern Minnesota. Headlights on the shiny new Hudson illuminated the road and a silvery moon hunglow over the treetops, casting shadows in the chilly air. Random fog patches threw up walls of white under the headlights glow as we dipped and veered through the Laurentian Forest. Mary and the children dozed, leaning on piles of pillows and luggage, coats thrown across as blankets to warm them. Radio station out of Duluth faded in and out as the hills rolled by.
Willard fought to stay awake for just another hour or so would put them near a familiar hotel. Random rains had slowed their trip but the clear night would allow him to make up time. A long downhill stretch swept into a hard right and Willard eased off the throttle to keep the big car steady. Rounding the curve, the lights shone on a triumvirate of deer. A large buck accompanied by a pair of does stared into the timber from the center of the road. Willard eased the Hudson to the side of the road. It was new and expensive, considering what the lodge business brought in, but was large enough to haul guests, guides and the occasional sheep. He recognized his good fortune that the deer were further up the road and not behind the blind curve and he sat back in his seat, breathing deeply, waiting for the deer to pass, enjoying watching their shapes in the darkness. Slowly, the females wandered off into the forest on the left hand side of the road while the buck stood sentinel, head raised, taking in the surroundings, scents and sights. With the ladies clear of harm's way, Willard figured the man of the family would follow close behind.
Then, the deer turned to face the car, seemingly inquisitive, before lowering his head and charging full-on, crashing into the left front fender, smashing the headlight and bowing the massive hood. The family awoke with the force of the impact and the sound of bending metal and breaking glass. Mary scowled at Willard, the children blinked, bleary-eyed. Willard sat frozen, hands gripping the wheel as the animal strode into the woods, following the does.
Willard pulled at the latch on the door but it wouldn't budge. The family piled out to examine the damage. The front of the car was a mangle of chrome and crumpled steel. Willard tried to open the hood but it was so badly damaged it would not open. The family stood looking at the wreck in the moonlight as Willard shook his head. Eventually they piled in and drove slowly to the next town, a single headlight guiding their way.
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