You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

LOOK OUT FOR ELK

As the sun was setting, a thick blanket of fog approached off the Pacific Ocean. My son and I had spent the day working on the construction of our beach house. As we put away our tools, I mentioned that I was dreading the drive home to Portland. He replied that he was going to have dinner with his friend Kirsten. After a pause, he invited me to join them. I happily accepted.

We went to The Warren House, a local tavern known for great food. It was a delightful meal during which I learned that Kirsten was a volunteer in the Cannon Beach fire department. She told us “Since I was girl, I dreamed of being a firefighter.” Her motivation was to help people and protect their homes. She was volunteering to receive training which would make her a better candidate for future employment somewhere. She was not particular about where that would be but hoped Cannon Beach Fire Department would offer her a job. Eventually, our meal ended. It was time for me to start my long drive back to Portland. As we said our goodbyes, Kirsten became serious and said “It’s a foggy night. Drive carefully. There have been reports of elk along 26.” I thanked her and started my trip back to Portland in my old pickup.

I had driven several miles away from the coast. Along that stretch of Highway 26 where the Hemlock and vine maple crowed the two-lane road. The fog was so thick my headlights seemed to form a wall ahead of me. It swirled around my pickup as in a dream. I thought back over meeting Kirsten, such a lovely caring person. It was so thoughtful of her to tell me to look out for elk. As that thought was in my mind I suddenly saw, in my headlights, shrouded in fog, a cow elk. Was it real or was I imagining it? I swerved to the right and was able to avoid hitting her. But my abrupt turn placed my truck in the path of a bull elk, following the cow. He reared up as if to fend off my truck. I jerked the steering wheel left but it was not quick enough. The truck rocked violently. I looked for a place to pull off the highway but there was no shoulder and there was a car right on my tail. The truck seemed to be undamaged so I drove on. Less than a mile further I passed a forest access road. I noticed that a car was parked there. Less than a mile after that, my cab was flooded with a flashing red light.

The trooper approached my door as I rolled the window down. He was a man of about 40. He calmly explained “I stopped you because you have no tail lights.” As he shined his bright flashlight around in my cab. I handed him my license and insurance card to him. I told him that “The lights had been working when I left Cannon Beach”. Then it occurred to me. “Oh!” I exclaimed “The elk which ran into me must have damaged my tail lights.” “The elk which ran into you?” He asked in disbelief. “Well it didn’t exactly run into me,” I said. “It was more like he fell on my truck.” “The elk fell on your truck?” He said chuckling. “Yes! He did. He reared up and came down on the side of my truck. “ I explained the event to the trooper. “Let’s see what damage it caused.” I said as I started to open the door. He adamantly stated “stay in the cab.” “But we have to see and you have a flashlight.” I said as I continued opening the door. I could see that he was very uncomfortable but he stepped back and followed me around to the opposite side of the truck.

A long crease in the rear panel from behind the cab the full length of the fender. The tail light was partially torn from the truck. “How long ago did this happen?” he asked. It was clear that he had not believed anything I had told him. Standing there alongside a highway in darkness and fog, he and I were at a impasse. He not believing my extraordinary story and I having no way to demonstrate the veracity of what I was telling him.

Then something caught my attention. “Shine your light over hear I said.” pointing to something caught in the broken trim. The intense beam from his lantern followed my finger to a projecting piece of chrome. Under the sharp edge of the trim, was a small piece of fresh hide and fur of an elk. I removed it and handed it to the officer saying “Look, he left his calling card.” The trooper took it. Turning it over in his hand, he examined it for a long moment. I could tell he was going through some tough mental gyrations. Without a word he turned and started walking towards his cruiser. He glanced back and said “Please get back into your truck.” A few minutes later he came up to my open window and told me “You are free to go. Get it fixed before you drive it again. I can’t give you a ticket. It’s not your fault that an elk fell on your truck.”