GO AHEAD AND HIT THE DAMN THING Regular readers may know that this writer has a well-developed interest in the art and science of driving well. Driving well, in this case, means being in control of your machine, making good decisions. And, of course, dealing effectively with the increasingly hostile environment that is all around us all the time. That said, the following experience serves well to reinforce a core belief. Driving, like hitting a curve ball or a triple axel, is a psychomotor skill which relies on the pre-programming of the sub-conscious in the bio-computer we call a brain. Reacting instantly, accurately, thus avoiding accidents, is very much dependent on effectively preparing yourself to deal instinctively and correctly with dangerous surprises. Last night, as Jane, my best friend and chief chef was about to pop the marinated flank steak on the grill, there came a thunderous banging on our front door. We live "out in the country" so un-invited, post-sundown visitors are rare indeed. So rare that Jane said, "Someone is banging on the front door. Would you please see who it is?" I put down my end-of-day lubricant and proceeded to investigate this rude interruption. As I turned on the porch light and looked out through the vertical glass panel beside the front door, I was appalled and terrified by the apparition who stood howling on our front porch. Here was a young man of average height and weight, soot-blackened and clothes burned half off, blood coursing down the left side of his face, and open, bleeding wounds on the forehead, hands and knees. Someone in awesome pain. Beyond our house the road continues uninhabited, northward through pine forest and tobacco field for another mile and a half. Our young man was returning home from his job as a chef, southbound along this gravel road in the dark. A deer leapt in front of his truck from left to right and our young man instinctively swerved to the right to avoid hitting it. Had he made this move in any other of the 7,290 feet of that gravel road he would simply have gone into last year's tobacco stubble or the scrub brush. Instead he went over a sharp drop-off which ends at a thirty-year-old Douglas fir tree. In about three seconds the truck rolled, struck the tree and the gas tank exploded in flames. Our young man was about to die. Somehow the gods saw fit to leave him conscious after the blows of impact, conscious enough to know that if he did not kick out a window and crawl away, he would surely die on the spot. He did crawl out and then walked the third of a mile to our house. We got him an EMS ambulance and happily, he is now recovering at the UNC Burn Center. It took 200 stitches to close the wounds. But he's going to be fine. So what's the point of all this? Here's the point. This is the third story of this type that I've heard in three years. Driver swerves to avoid hitting animal and..... you know the rest. Jane and I would be devastated if some driver were to strike Buckie, our In-Your-Face Gordon Setter or Dewey, our Get-Out-Of-My-House Tabby Cat. But it would be much worse for us if someone died trying to avoid that contact. So here's the bottom line. No matter how much of an animal lover you may be. No matter how much you are sickened by the sight of dead dogs, cats, deer, raccoons or birds along the highway, ask yourself this question. Better your son or daughter than the dead animal? I don't think so. So start now to pre-program your mind to instantaneously grit your teeth and hit the damned thing. Our young man has third degree burns over at least half of his body, a shattered right arm and a long convalescence because he instinctively did the "humane" thing and tried to avoid the deer. Had he gone ahead and hit the deer he might have (but probably not) totalled his truck. Certainly he'd have walked away whole. The alternatives are ugly, but the choice is clear. Click Here for the follow-up column "Strength In Numbers"