I hit two deer with the same car in the same trip.
Back in the late '80s, I was ferrying a 78 Saab 900 turbo from Boston to Houston.
Somewhere in the boonies around Columbus, OH, there was a flash of brown, the hood folded up in the middle like a name tent totally protecting the windshield (bless those Swedish safety regulations), there was an "explosion" of light without sound, the dash lit up like a Christmas tree, and seeing nothing in front of me, I steered by the center lane marking looking out the driver side window as the engine quit and the steering became heavy and the car rolled to a stop.
After a while a cop showed up, and a tow truck. I wasn't drunk, and the car went to a local garage and I caught a Greyhound back to Boston.
A month later, the car was ready, and the insurance (USAA) paid, and I boarded a Greyhound back to Ohio, and picked up the car, and headed southwest.
Crossing the state line from Louisiana to Texas, I turned south on whatever highway runs north out of Houston, and, flash of brown, "explosion" of light without sound [turns out this "explosion" was the headlight lenses shattering into many pieces illuminated by the sudden flash of the incandescent bulbs exposed to air], the brand new hood folded in half rising in the middle to completely block the windshield, and again, with no motor and heavy steering and dash lit like a Christmas tree, I guided the car by the center lane markings and rolled to a stop on the shoulder.
This was in the days before cell, and I was just standing by the car, in the dark waiting for someone to stop.
After about 15 minutes, off in the distance to the south I could see flashing light (all flat, no trees, see a long way). As the flashing neared, there were about ten vehicles between cop cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. One of the cop cars crossed the center line and pulled up to me and stopped, and asked, "Did you see a wreck out here ?" I shook my head, "No officer." He raced off to catch the other vehicles.
After another ten minutes, all the vehicles were headed back south, this time without the rush. They all stopped behind where I was, and one of the cops walked up, and suggested I was screwing with them. I described what happened, and the cop acted as if he didn't believe me. All the cops fanned out with their flashlights, and after a while, one of the cops came back, and he had a Polaroid (they were still in business back then) in his hand. In a serious voice and look, one hand on his sidearm, he said, "Mr., you are under arrest!" I was incredulous. He thrust the Polaroid at me, shined his flashlight on it, and it was a beautiful buck with a full rack. He went on, "We have laws here against illegal hunting. A deer like that, folks around here are going to be mighty sore you took that one away from them." He paused, then let out a big laugh.
By that time he had pieced together what happened. A car passing me right at the time of the deer strike had not seen the deer, but had seen the flash, and went to the next town and reported a "terrible crash - fire - don't know how they could survive".
Meanwhile the cops had run the plates, and contacted my parents waiting for me in Houston with the initial report "no survivors".
Cops gave me a ride into town (Waco ?) and later my folks showed up to take me the rest of the way.
This time the car was totaled.
Yes, I too ride more easily at night, or not at all if I can help it.
