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I was sitting there musing about the Labor Day feast I’d be eating later on, thinking of what wine to pair with the ham dad was baking, when there was a sudden snapping of branches and stomping in the undergrowth of something huge barreling through the woods.

I shouldn’t have gone hunting today. But it’s the final day of the season, and I have one last tag I want to fill. Still, it looked like a bad idea right from the start.

The hood sprang open and slammed against the windshield, and I was hurtling along the highway full-speed in the center lane, surrounded by traffic, and the hood was perfectly blocking any view in front of me.

“Dad, listen… I’m in trouble.” This is not a call any father wants to receive, especially when he knows his son is alone in the woods at night. I felt bad for putting him through it even as I said the words. But I didn’t know what else to do...