Last year, my company, Cequent Performance Products Inc., planned to debut a new product, the ZCI: Zero Contact Interface Modulite Powered Converter, at a large automotive-accessories show in Las Vegas. The ZCI operates the brake lights and signals on a trailer being towed behind a vehicle, but rather than having to splice into the vehicle's wires to make it function – as is the case with most other products – it uses magnets to sense the current going through the wires and thus requires less-invasive installation.

Not only does the ZCI currently work on every known vehicle, but also it allows for easy installation on luxury vehicles. End users usually hate to cut into a luxury car's wiring, and some installers are leery of it as well. So to show the ZCI's versatility for every car class, we decided to use a GL350 Mercedes, which was part of our company's car fleet, for the demo. Several weeks prior to the show, we'd arranged to have it shipped to Vegas from our offices in Plymouth, MI. But about a week before the show, the transporter backed out of the contract.

We immediately scrambled to find another carrier but soon discovered that this last-minute job would now cost a small fortune. Rather than blow the budget, our exhibit-marketing team brainstormed for alternative options, and somebody threw out the idea of simply driving the vehicle to the show. Believe it or not, I love road trips, and since I wasn't slated to work this show, I quickly volunteered for the three-day task. When I told my husband, Jim, about the plan, he eagerly signed on to my co-pilot.

So three days before the show, we set off on our journey. Our first day's drive was awesome. We enjoyed not only our time together but also the changing landscapes. By about 5 p.m., we were just east of Council Bluffs, IA, which isn't far from the Nebraska border. We decided to stop for the night, particularly since dusk was setting in and driving through deer country in the dark was risky.

We were a mile from our intended exit as this "deer country" thought crossed my mind, and as if on cue, a huge 10-point buck darted out of the woods up ahead and across the road in front of me. My heart leapt into my throat, and my foot went for the brake. But I soon realized that the buck was already across our portion of the road, so there was no need to panic. However, I knew that where there's one deer, there are usually more. Eyes wide, I eased onto the brakes, as both Jim and I eyeballed the forest on the right, looking for more deer.

Just as I began to exhale, I caught motion out of the corner of my left eye, seconds before the massive buck came charging back at us from the median. I mashed the brake pedal to the floor, but it was too late. The fearful, frantic animal shot onto the highway and plowed right into the driver's side of the Mercedes.

Stunned, Jim and I exchanged a quick glance before we confirmed that we were both OK. I slowly maneuvered the car onto the shoulder of the road, just ahead of where the buck was sprawled out, obviously dead. Shakily, we crawled out of the car to assess the damages.

The headlight was bashed in like the bottom of a compressed egg carton, and a corner of the hood above the light was crumpled. Plus, the bumper was dented and scratched, and the front quarter panel was peeling away from the frame in a couple of places.

Given the force of the blow, I was actually surprised that it wasn't worse. But still, the car was due at the show hall in two days – in pristine condition no less. We had to get it fixed, and fast. So Jim and I got back in the car and tried to drive to the nearest exit. However, an ominous scraping sound was coming from the left front wheel, where one of the panels was rubbing against the tire. I pulled off the road again and cut the engine. Then I sucked in a deep breath and called our event manager.

I explained what happened, and she turned her attention to our welfare instead of freaking out about the car. But we ascertained that there was little she could do for us long distance. She suggested we try to find a Mercedes dealer in the area, get the vehicle into a drivable state, and hightail it to Las Vegas. In the meantime, she'd work on a plan to mask the damage.

When we hung up, I Googled "Mercedes dealership" and scored one that was still open in Omaha, NE, only 19 miles away. The rep I spoke to was able to give me the name of a nearby body shop that could look at the car in the morning. She also recommended a towing company whose driver soon scooped us up, brought the car to the body shop, and dropped us off at a hotel.

The next morning I called the body shop as soon as it opened at 7 a.m. to explain the crumpled Mercedes parked in its lot. By 7:30, a rep called me back to say she could get it in the shop, render it drivable, and have it back to us by 9 a.m.

Lo and behold, shortly before 9 a.m., a Mercedes salesman picked us up from the hotel, depositing us at the body shop, which didn't even charge us for the minor work necessary to make the vehicle drivable. Sweet! The road-warrior gods were definitely on our side – either that or the spirit of the kamikaze deer was sending us good juju. By 9:40, Jim and I were back on the road and headed toward Las Vegas.

Roughly two days later, we arrived at our destination with just enough time to get the car detailed and moved onto the show floor. While we were en route, I'd phoned our exhibit manager and suggested that since the damage was limited to just one corner of the car, we could cover it up with a workstation and a large plant. After we arrived, she agreed with my Plan B suggestion.

Once we had our concealment strategies in place, you'd never have known that a deer recently committed hari-kari on the front quarter panel unless you'd specifically gone looking for scratches and dings. In fact, not a single person (other than our exhibit staff) noticed a thing.

In the end, our mishap taught us to thoroughly investigate every transportation provider to ensure it can't back out of a contract without serious financial penalties. But we also learned that there truly are good people still left in the world, many of whom will bend over backward to help a stranger in need. And as a result, I've made an even bigger effort to pay it forward – or to pass the buck, if you will.