I pulled on some clothes and join Kubota in the hallway just outside our bedroom.
The words tumbled out of his mouth. "I had an accident."
I look him over. He appeared uninjured.
|Duct tape, JB Weld, zip-ties or stove bolts. Take your pick.|
"I saw a doe cross the road so I slowed down." Kubota said.
I was thinking, good plan!
"Then I sped up..." Kubota said.
"...and the buck ran into the side of the truck." he finished.
I didn't know why he had to wake me at three in the morning. And then he enlightened me.
"I was driving your truck."
Maybe it is a good thing that I was still processing a little bit slowly. Or maybe it is because I have been praying more, a side effect of spending more time with my elderly parents.
The words continued to gush out of Kubota's mouth. That was a little bit odd. Most of our conversations are monosyllabic.
"I ran out of gas over by Charlotte so I walked back home to pick up a gas can. I used your truck to run to the gas station to buy some gas. I hit the deer on the way back to my truck."
Kubota has a copy of my key and my permission to use my truck for "emergencies". He was shitting razor blades out of fear that I would not consider a vehicle abandoned beside the road enough of an emergency.
NO WORRIES! How much damage can anybody do to a $1300 vehicle? Nobody was hurt. The buck ran off.
Heck, that is not damage. That is character!