It's not a ski story

Shared by Mike Parusa

I do not have any skiing stories as I gave up skiing years before getting into the volleyball scene. The years of volleyball playing seem to blend so much that the only standout was what note Bob would be playing on the court. I always felt bad for the ducks, as they would get the blame. Funny how I never saw any ducks.

One incident stands out for me. It is totally unrelated to volleyball, which seems strange. I was doing a repair on Bob’s Subaru one night. I was driving his car to the repair shop in the dark. I was driving along and took a mental note to adjust his headlights, which allowed one to see maybe 10 feet and to guess what was beyond that. I was nearing my destination, with only 500 feet to go. The next scenario happened so fast that only someone who has been involved in similar incident can relate too. It all started with a blur on the right side of the car. Then as time slowed I saw the head of a deer as if mounted on the right fender. The following sound and physical impact produced that sinking “oh no” feeling. I got out and didn’t see the deer anywhere. I also didn’t see any light coming from the right side of the car. That “feeling” that I hate returned.

I jumped back in the car and drove the few hundred feet to the garage. I got the car inside and in the light I could see the damage done. The headlight area was crushed and the side of the fender was badly dented along with the hood. I stood there staring at the damage for several minutes. I had to call Bob and tell him what happened. I was feeling terrible as I dial his number. The ringing stopped and the familiar “this is Bob” filled my ear. I said hi Bob. I was driving your car and hit a deer. Now I didn’t know how Bob would react, but this I didn’t expect. He started to laugh. I’m still a little unnerved by the whole crash thing. I continued to tell him of the damage and that just made him laugh harder. By the end of the call, I felt much better and Bob got a good laugh. He gave a profound statement to sum it all up. “**it happens”. Now I’m laughing as I write this. Bob was certainly a unique individual.

I want to extend a heartfelt sympathy to the Cook family.