There’s a First
December 22, 2008
We’ve done something we’ve never done before.
We Chicagoans-turned-semirural-Kansans have — hit an animal with our vehicle.
Where do I begin?
It was a dark and stormy — oh, sorry.
Although it was a dark night. That was the first problem. My oldest two kids had their school Christmas program Thursday night, the night where we were either going to have a small ice storm or thunderstorm, depending on how far north the warm Southern air decided to come.
As we set out to school, my husband decided to take it nice and slow. The road we were on had no street lights, was mostly rural with a few set back homes, there was low, dense cloud cover, and visibility wasn’t much past the front of our car.
Or rather wasn’t much past the possum a couple yards in front of our car.
As long and tall as a house cat, the possum was super plump. All white and gray. And about to get it.
It’s amazing how much you can think in less time than it takes you to open your mouth. I analyzed what part of our car was going to hit the possum and what part of its body would take it. And I realized that the tire I was sitting behind would hit it, probably right in the poor animal’s midsection. I had time to say, “Oh — !” and the thing disappeared in front of us.
And then –
Thabump. The tire hit the possum and rolled right over it.
Thabump. I still shudder thinking about it. It was the nastiest feeling, the nastiest sound. The poor animal. We poor Bradleys.
This is one of those firsts you never want to reach, you know? We’ve never, ever hit an animal, not even a squirrel or chipmunk. Okay, maybe an ant. Oh, yes, and lots of bugs.
But no animal. Ugh.
A moment of silence . . .
In case you’re about to dig through your recipe files, I do not need any possum stew recipes. No, I don’t have one I prefer. It’s just another first I refuse to do.
Now may I never have to write a post about the first time someone slipped me possum stew . . .