A Storyby Terese Svoboda
A deer came right through the windshield, her father says, and taps the stretch of glass in front of him. Came right through, and knocked the guy into the backseat.
The deer was dead on impact? she asks.
Come on, he chuckles, pushing the car lighter in. What saved the guy was not wearing a seat belt. First thing, the car ran up onto the train tracks.
Of course a train was coming.
Somebody going the other way stopped and dragged him off just in time. If he’d had that seat belt on, he would have been pinned inside.
His seat belt swings limply against the car wall, where it has been sprung from its buzzer. I rest my case, she says. I’ll watch for deer instead.
He laughs and lights his cigar.
What do they call those small white birds that sit on the backs of the cows? she asks.
Ibis, he says, between puffs. Just like in Africa.