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There's a deer in your trunk

December 08, 1998

Blame it on Lyle Lovett. I don't get to hear too much country music, but Lyle shifts from blues up to jazz down to country smoother than a Ferrari gearbox, so sometimes before I know it he's off on something like "I Married Her Because She Looks Like You."

Now if you're like me, and I assume that you are, there is something about listening to country that makes you want to write country music.

It's like watching a field goal kicker. You hear the line "My wife just ran away with my best friend and I miss him" and think "I could do that."

All you need is some inspiration.

Flash back to last Tuesday when my colleague (and designated eye witness, should anyone doubt my story) Laura Ernde, and I were returning from a withering day of lawmaker interviews in Annapolis. Well, she was interviewing. But I superintended.


So you can imagine, tired as I was, I didn't exactly trust my eyes when I saw a couple of deer stuffed into the trunk of a car on I-97 just outside of Baltimore.

Now keep in mind I live in Hagerstown. I am used to seeing deer carci in the beds of pickups, strapped to roofs and yes, on rare occasion, sticking out of a trunk. And Laura lives in Pennsylvania where people do not drive cars so much as they drive deer snowplows.

But what truly startled us was the type of car involved - a blue, late model, top-of-the-line Mercedes Benz.

Had the Lord actually bought Janis Joplin a Mercedes Benz, she might have been the type to drive around with gutted wildlife in the trunk.

But a normal person?

I know some doctors who like to hunt, but the deer are eminently safe when they are in the woods so long as they stand still, although sometimes they get moving around and a stray slug hits them by accident.

And I know some MBAs who like to shoot, but they limit their lead output to flying clay disks that give you the satisfying sense of destruction without all that blood.

But what if there were one broker out there who one day just snapped. Got fed up with daily market palpitations, bought a 30-30 and didn't even bother stopping off to get a sport utility vehicle - just headed straight for the woods.

And what if he got lucky and mowed down a couple of whitetail? It could happen. And if it did, he might find himself singing something like this:

Oh I'm an investment banker, in the Wall Street Journal loop.

Built a house of cards and money, sail a custom Hinkley sloop.

I hedge junk bond derivatives and buy options on soy and cotton.

The pressure kills I got a stack of bills,

And the future sure looks rotten.


The market it's up on a ledge and I'll be there shortly now.

Or in a padded room at Betty Ford's right next to Steven Howe.

I got to blow this stress off, get me a gun and hurry.

Ditch these rich neighborhoods and head for the woods,

So's I can blow up something furry.


Now I'm cruising the Beltway in lane number three

peoples turning their heads they's all smiling at me

I'll earn the respect of my boss score points with the ladies

With two deer in the trunk of my light blue Mercedes.

Got two deer in the trunk, going out on the town.

Don't care if the blood turns the carpet dark brown.

Their rumps are bobbin up and down on the fender,

It may dent the metal but it'll make the chops tender


The cellular phone goes in the trash as I head for my garage.

I've traded in my Armani suit for blaze orange camouflage.

Sometimes you need a life change to get that frustration out.

Need to perk up my luck got to bag me a buck,

That will make me a man, no doubt.

(Repeat chorus.)

All right. it's not Lyle Lovett, but what do you want for 50 cents?

Tim Rowland is a Herald-Mail columnist.

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