From the mind of Licorice Whip comes the following:

I am driving south by southeast on I94 at the setting of the sun. I am doing the speed limit for I am a raving speed-limit jockey. I am, undeniably, the epitome of driving excellence. I am rounding a curve on the inside lane. There is a vehicle on the lane nigh right of me. I am executing the fundamentals of vehicular transportation flawlessly when, lo, a farking goose decoy appears in the middle of my lane. To the right of me is an obvious insurance claim, to the left of me is one of those indestructible galvanized median fences. 2000 Dodge Intrepid, meet Goose Decoy; Goose Decoy, meet 2000 Dodge Intrepid (and its front bumper, followed closely by its oil pan, underbody, catalytic converter, and rear carriage). This object of avian fakery makes a ghastly ruckus neath mine petrol chariot. In the end, I consider myself lucky as there are only dents on items under my vehicle. Moreso, I consider the schmuck who failed to secure the decoy for transport to be extremely lucky, for, were I to meet said schmuck, my foot would have given him a tonsillectomy by way of his posterior.