For the first time in my 14 years of driving, I hit a deer on the highway.

Crusing at 58 MPH, I caught it in my periphery, just at the edge of the headlight’s beam. I had a flash of the deer going through my windshield, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs. It is my wife’s car, after all.

Fortunately, my instincts kicked in. As it ran left-to-right across the highway, I swerved left and eased the brakes but did not stop. I clipped it’s hindquarters with the passenger side of the Civic, and it knocked out my headlight.

I don’t know if it lived or died, and I don’t care. I kept driving, barely losing speed. It was 5AM and I had just left the Dayton International Airport, where I had dropped off the wife and a friend for their trip to Cancun.

I get to go to the Sabres game in Columbus on Saturday with my dad, brother and good friend Steve. Lower bowl seats.

She gets to go to Cancun.

I call that a Push.

When I finally did stop, some 20 miles later at Tim Horton’s (I do have my priorities you know), I discovered that the goddamn deer had not only knocked out my headlight, but cracked the bumper and dented the quarterpanel.

This, among other reasons, is why I hate deer. And why I may take up hunting, despite my dislike of firearms.

This is not my first road encounter with a deer. 13 years ago, my great friend Katie and I were on our way to downtown Rochester and had just left her house near the Erie Canal in Pittsford, New York. Her neck of the woods was literally that – heavily wooded. We weren’t going very fast, 25 or 30 MPH, and a deer darted out in front of us. I slammed on the brakes and watched it run by.

“Be careful! There’s always more than one,” she prophetically said.

Now, I said earlier that I had never hit a deer with my car. That’s true.

Because as I eased off the brake and the car idled forward, a deer slammed into the passenger side quarterpanel of my red 1995 Chevy Lumina LS. It shook it’s head, looked at me like I was the asshole and what was my car doing there anyway, and sprinted into the woods, following it’s friend.

So, technically, before 5:02AM today on the airport access road in Vandalia, Ohio, I had never hit a deer. It had hit me.

Today, I got my revenge.

This, my friends, is why it is good to have comprehensive coverage on your vehicles.

A friend suggested that it would have all been worth it if I had stopped, put its maimed body out of its misery and taken the meat home.

Note to self: In 2011, learn how to field dress a deer. That way, our next encounter will result in a tally of Adam 2, Deer 1.