Recently my blogger friend, Jordan, over at Blueberry Hills Homestead, wrote about and included pictures of her dog's new favorite outside perch: on top of her car. She commented that hers is now the only vehicle in her work's parking lot with large dog foot prints all over the hood and roof.
Her post reminded me of a very distinct moose hoof print we once had on the black rubber-coated bumper of above pictured car right above the license plate.
The beginning of this tale goes back many years. (Many, many years.) When my mom was pregnant with me and living with her parents while my dad was overseas during World War II, my grandfather insisted that my mom get her driver's license . . . something she had never done.
A few months of driving lessons from Grandpa and Mom was ready to take the test. She went in to take the written part and passed with flying colors. But when she met the man who was to give her the driving test, things came to an abrupt halt. You see, by that time she was nine months pregnant. The gentleman took one look at her, told her to go home, have her baby and then come back to see him. (Coward.)
The upshot was that Mom never did go back to get her driver's license and through all the years of her marriage and raising a family, she couldn't drive.
Fast forward now to just about fourteen years ago. My dad had recently passed away, Mom was left with a very nice car, but no driver's license and sad to say but true, had lost her chauffeur.
She spent a bit of time visiting with us after Dad's death and one day we were discussing the situation, and everyone agreed that it sure would be nice if she could drive. She said she would still be willing to learn, and my husband volunteered to teach her.
One day shortly after the decision had been made, they returned from a driving lesson and Roy announced that he now knew there was nothing wrong with Mom's reflexes.
They had been on a deserted gravel road and Mom was behind the wheel in the very same Toyota Tercel pictured above. There were heavy woods on each side of the road and, wouldn't ya know it, a moose trotted out onto the road immediately in front of them. Mom hit the brakes, the moose did an about-turn in mid air right in front of the car and dashed back into the woods.
Mom and Roy sat there slightly stunned while their heart beats returned to normal. They realized they had heard a substantial "thunk" and Mom said, "I think I hit him."
They got out of the car and there smack in the middle of the bumper was a dusty, perfect imprint of a moose hoof. No other damage whatsoever . . . and they assumed the moose wasn't any the worse for wear either.
Mom took pictures to take home as proof of her driving adventures in the Northwoods and her very close encounter with a moose.
So, see Jordan, the prints on your car could be worse. Especially since your four-legged creature insists on tromping all over the hood and roof!
Crocheted Washcloths ~ Review Over the Years
10 hours ago
Cute story Mama Pea! I hope I never get a chance to tell that story for myself!
Thanks, Jordan! We have a heavy deer population (and a fewer amount of moose) up here so there's hardly anyone who hasn't had some kind of a vehicle run-in with a deer. And although those accidents can be serious, it's not the same as when one is unfortunate enough to hit a moose. They are just too massive. It usually means serious injury or a fatality for the people in the car. People in cars have been crushed by the moose coming up over the hood and landing in their laps.
Gosh, how did I get on that not very pleasant tangent? Moral of story? Never hit a moose . . . or let one climb on your car!
Great story! I can't get past the car, though... those little Tercel wagons are one of my favorites!
Erin - Ah, yes, the good ol' Tercels. That's why we've gone to such pains to keep ours in the best shape we can. They don't make 'em anymore . . . wouldn't ya know . . . so we're hanging on to this one as long as we can!
That's a great story. I bet your Mom loved sharing it with her friends too.
Ruthie - You can bet she did! Especially when you realize that our life up here is so very foreign to the type of life she and her friends were living back in metropolitan Illinois.
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