Robert Stanger

More than 40 years is a long time to have been driving on rural roads in northwestern Pennsylvania without having had an accident involving a deer.

There had been many close calls but no accident.

But my luck ran out just recently, and I would say in retrospect that what occurred does not reflect too well on the motoring public, including yours truly, with one notable exception.

I was returning to my home in Youngstown after a week’s solitary stay at our cabin on the Allegheny.

It was very late in the afternoon and I was well south of Tidioute on Route 62 and was driving at a fair clip when I suddenly spotted a very large deer lying across the road in front of me.

It had apparently been hit not-too-long before, and was either dead or too badly hurt to move, and the driver that hit it had just continued on his or her way.

At my speed and the close proximity of the animal, it was too late for me to swerve. So, I decided to just try to straddle it.

Due to the animal’s size, the collision was severe, and I was sure that the front portion of my small 2008 Volvo (which I had just purchased) had been damaged.

I pulled to the side of the road where a quick inspection that showed some portion of the car was dragging between the two front wheels.

I therefore decided to return to our cabin and try to get the car repaired from there the next day, as continuing on to Youngstown didn’t seem wise.

I turned on my flashing lights and turned around, again passing the dead deer where a couple of other motorists had stopped.

As I came upon an open lot off the side of the road, I decided to pull in there and try to make a more thorough inspection of my damaged car.

I was followed into the lot by a passing motorist in a Ford Bronco who had noticed my flashing lights and had paused to see if he could be of help.

He was wearing a shirt with “COACH” printed on it.

The two of us managed to free the badly damaged heavy plastic shield which covered the underside of the car (to which bits of the deer’s hair still clung), a portion of which had been dragging on the pavement.

“I don’t see anything leaking … any water, brake or transmission fluid,” the Good Samaritan motorist said as the two of us checked the area between the car’s two front wheels.

I stored the damaged shield in the trunk of the car and decided that since the damage to the car seemed confined to just it, that I’d continue on my way to Youngstown.

On my way south, I again passed the deer’s carcass, but no one was at the scene.

I shortly came upon an open roadside tavern and asked the comely bartender there to report the need to have the deer’s remains removed from the road to the north.

She readily agreed to do so, after kindly first inquiring if I was OK, and if my car had been badly damaged.

To me the Good Samaritan motorist was an example of the best among the motoring public.

But as to the others however involved with the mishap … including yours truly, the driver, who first stuck the deer and those who just happened onto the mishap … the fact that no one had been practical enough to remove the deer is troubling.

Of course, it was a large animal, and the efforts of two people might have been necessary.

The mishap certainly underscored to me the need for drivers in rural Pennsylvania to constantly be aware that there is a four-footed menace to their safe passage lurking in the forest through which they pass.

The hunting season takes down their number each year, but the state’s white tail deer population remains constantly high at some 1.5 million.

The risk to drivers will soon become even stronger with the arrival of their late fall mating season.

Robert Stanger has lived seasonally for over 40 years along the Allegheny River and has the stories to tell about it.