We took off down I-90 at 75 miles
an hour. My brother and I sat comfortably in the back seat with our headphones
snug in our ears; I was listening to This American Life and Eddie was enjoying
what he calls “gangster music.” After a longer than usual week of school and
work, our family was more than ecstatic to finally take off for a week of pure
relaxation and family fun. My mom called the attendance office to let them know
that my brother and I would be MIA the following week.
Everything was going great, when
suddenly we all looked up. I’m not sure if it was the sudden decrease in speed
or the chaotic swerving that caught our attention, but we looked up just in
time to see an idiotic turkey sauntering across the road. My dad swerved to the
opposite side of the road and we all let out a sigh of relief thinking we had
missed it. When my dad swerved the turkey must have realized its life was in
mortal danger, so he sped up only to meet us on the other lane where he was
promptly slaughtered. Blood splattered the windshield and we heard a nefarious
noise that made us cringe in our seats. My little brother burst into tears as
my dad pulled off to the shoulder. He whimpered, “F%#ing turkey! Our whole
vacation is ruined!”
My dad stepped out to assess the
damage, which was pretty severe. The radiator was busted and leaking, but to
our luck it didn’t overheat in the short time it took us to drive the van back
home. We cleared out our other vehicle, transferred our suitcases, and then
slammed the doors before we backed out of the driveway. It was a silent ride as
we bounced down the road in my dad’s black Chevy. My mom pointed out, “Maybe we
hit that turkey for a reason. It’s not such a bad thing.”
We disagreed, and sat there pouting
about our misfortune. Later, though we realized that it wasn’t that bad: we
could’ve been killed or something much worse than hitting a dang turkey.
About 5 hours down the road, after
forgetting the whole turkey incident, I was given the privilege to drive. The
speed limit was 75mph and I was having a blast speeding past all the semis.
Suddenly the rear window behind me was bitch black. We heard a bang and my dad
decided that I should pull over. He stepped out to inspect the damage; the
truck bed cover had ripped from the violent winds and high speed. We sighed and
began moving our boots, coats, and whatever other light items we had to the cab
of the truck. It was a tight fit, but my mom pointed out that we should be thankful
it wasn’t raining yet.
After that things went slightly
smoother than they had started out. The only obstacles we had left that night
were fog, snow, and ice on curvy roads. That was nothing compared to a stupid
turkey.
