The automobile industry has come a long way since the horse and buggy.

They got rid of the horse.

Added a motor.

Covered everything in plastic.

Tripled the cost of running it.

And for safety, they crammed explosives into places you?d never expect.

There?s one in the steering wheel.

One in the dash.

Hell, there?s probably one hiding in the cup holder waiting for you to sneeze wrong.

They say it?s to save your life.

I remain suspicious.

Picture this!

Tuesday evening.

Back road.

Just before dusk.

I?m flying along down the roa,d minding my own business, demolishing a bologna sandwich slathered in about half a jar of mustard.

Mustard everywhere.

Shirt ruined.

Hands greasy.

Living my best life.

Then I knock my phone off the seat, and it drops onto the passenger side floor.

Now, any smart person would do one of two things.

Pull over for two seconds.

Or leave it there.

I do neither.

Instead, I cram the rest of the sandwich into my mouth like I?m trying to beat a clock and lean down to grab the phone.

You know that feeling when you?ve got something stuck between your teeth and if you?d just wait it would come loose?

Same thing.

But no.

I go after it anyway.

Head below the dashboard.

One hand fishing around.

Driving entirely by faith.

I finally grab the phone and lift it up like I just won gold at the fuckin Olympics.

Proud as hell.

Face stuffed with bologna.

Mustard dripping.

That?s when I remember I?m still driving.

I look up.

???

DOE!!!

Two fawns.

Right in front of me.

I drop the phone again.

Spit bologna all over the windshield.

Now I can?t see a fuckin thing.

I hit something.

One of those little deer cartwheels up over the hood, clears the windshield, lands on its feet behind me like it just finished a gymnastics routine.

I actually hear its hooves hit the road and fade away.

The son of a bitch just keeps running.

I turn back forward just in time for technology to save my life.

The airbag goes off.

Let me clear something up right now.

An airbag does not feel like a pillow filled with feathers.

It feels like a fifty pound sack of frozen potatoes getting fired directly into your face.

My head snaps back so hard I?m pretty sure I checked the trunk.

The car fills with smoke.

There are little green birds flying around my head.

I can?t feel anything, and everything hurts at the same time.

Then I hear voices.

People looking at the windshield, absolutely coated in bologna and mustard, shaking their heads saying ?The poor bastard never even seen it coming.?

Oh I seen it coming!

It wasn?t the deer.

It was the fuckin airbag!

So let this be a lesson.

Phones are replaceable.

Sandwiches are temporary.

Airbags are undefeated.

Just leave it on the floor.

?????????????...and that's callin' it like it is!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Canadian artist & digital troublemaker Colin John Cook shares his louder-than-life, awkward, and honest-as-hell stories. Packed with humour, real talk & creative insights in a no filter, digital comedy space that laughs at life & calls it like it is. He is also the Founder and President of

The Hidden Gallery - Art Studio & Micro Theatre

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