DUANE SHERRILLEditor

I’ve never cared for Punxsutawney Phil or any of that Groundhog Day stuff, given the fact that overgrown rat generally predicts us six more weeks of winter even though by the time he crawls out of his hole to see his shadow we are up to here with winter – especially this year.

Matter of fact, whether he sees it or not makes no difference as he is 38 percent in predicting meteorological conditions. Fact is a coin toss would be more accurate. Heck, the rheumatism in Aunt Carol’s back would be a better predictor or the Sciatica in Uncle Eugene’s hip.

With that being said, I got nothing against Phil or any of his furry relatives that may inhabit the groundhog holes here in Coffee County. However, I do have a problem when they fail to stay in their lane. Not to be a hoggist, but a groundhog’s place is in the ground – thus the first part of its name – and whispering marginal weather predictions once a year to a guy with a ridiculous-looking hat. Other than that, groundhogs need to stay in their lane and out of mine.

“What’s your problem with groundhogs, Sherrill,” I can hear you say. “They’re just cute fuzzy little creatures that don’t do any harm.”

Well, that’s where you are wrong, sir and madam. Let me explain. So, the night after Phil’s big prediction I’m driving down the road, minding my own business, heading down Highway 55 and doing the speed limit in the slow lane no less. It’s all smooth sailing until one of Phil’s cousins gets into my lane – literally into my lane – stepping into my path on McMinnville Highway.

“Is that a …?” I began, already feeling the irony in that split second.

The irony on this is rich. It’s Groundhog Day and there I am, looking into the eyes of a groundhog as I’m going highway speed. Yes, we locked eyes. He looked at me (could have been a she – I don’t know how it “identified” and didn’t ask in all the excitement) and I looked at he/she.

We both immediately knew it was about to be a bad night – more so for the groundhog that was staring into my headlights. It was too late to touch a brake or for the groundhog to take evasive measures – like a groundhog could “Matrix” out of my way in the first place. All the groundhog had time to do is mouth the word “shoot” as it froze. Um, by the way, “shoot” wasn’t the exact word but this is a family publication. Um, or maybe that was what I said but either way the groundhog didn’t see its shadow that night – it saw the headlights of an oncoming 2022 Hyundai Elantra and heard the sound of its driver exclaiming an adult word.

Then came the impact. Let me just say, that was one big groundhog. It crushed my front grill and busted my radiator for starters. The crash left me stranded as all my coolant poured out so I had to make the call to my oldest son and explain that dad had just hit a groundhog.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked with a chuckle. “You know that’s funny because it’s …”

“Yeah. Groundhog Day,” I finished his sentence. “I know. Hilarious. Now come get me.”

Well, it took me three days to get a tow and I’m tooling around in a rental vehicle, being very careful that no more of his cousins emerge from the forest to further the irony. The damages will be in the thousands I’m sure but, as I said, I got the better end of the deal. However, try as I might, and I’ve tried, I can’t find the carcass of Phil. Could it be? Might he have survived? Nah. I’m sure he’s in the Gobbler’s Knob in the sky right now.

One thing for sure, that groundhog won’t be seeing its shadow next year. But, to be on the safe side, I’m staying at home next Groundhog Day since I don’t want Groundhog Day to repeat itself. Just ask Bill Murray.