When I was a kid, my dad took the neighbor deer hunting for the first time and I also got to go. We were about 100 miles from home and it was still dark when we got to our hunt area. We got out of the station wagon and were looking around in the half light of morning when BANG, the neighbor shot a small buck he had seen in his scope. Being not legal to shoot yet, my father, blowing steam, grabbed the small buck, threw it into the back of the station wagon, yelled for everyone else to get in the car and took off. About one mile down the road, that buck came to, decided he didn't like the ride and started tearing up the back of my dad's station wagon trying to get out. I hear "get down" yelled, and the neighbor points his rifle over the back of his seat. I duck and in a few seconds see the car light up and learn the painful effects of muzzle blast. Well, the guy hit the deer, with the round making a crease in the roof and exiting the rear window. My dad just kept on driving, yelling, driving, yelling, driving, until he reached a bus station. He drug the deer out of the station wagon, kicked our neighbor out of the car - gave him 10 bucks bus fare and then we went home. You might say that I learned a whole new vocabulary on that trip.
C F