You don’t have to be a deer to be amazed by the sights and sounds of La Primavera, which is set for Feb. 27-28. Come out and join the excitement of watching some of the best cyclists in the United States race right here in Lago Vista. Hopefully no one hits a deer this year, but cycling races are like NASCAR on two wheels, so there are always thrills and spills. Check out the Start/Finish area and all the high tech bicycles, some of which may cost more than your car. Some professional teams will be here in force in all their splendor. There’s even a good chance a certain Austinite named Lance may pop up this year. The following is a letter from a local deer and his take on the race.

The terror began Friday evening as darkness fell. I was innocently crossing the road to get to the other side when I first saw the creature. Its huge eyes were glaring brightly like two giant moons, charging straight for me, heading down with the largest rack of horns I had ever seen. Speeding so fast, it was upon me in an instant.
Quickly I froze like a deer in the headlights—actually I was a deer in the headlights. The creature squealed loudly and swerved, its hot breath engulfing me. I opened my eyes to see the beast’s demonic red eyes disappear in the distance. I was alive. I had dodged a bullet.
Wait, that’s a different story.
Terrified and trembling, I was tiptoeing across the chip and seal when suddenly a flash and another creature with even larger horns was bearing down on me. Quick as a flash, I froze in my tracks right in the middle of the road, and the beast screeched at me and whooshed past. I didn’t sleep well that night, but I don’t sleep at night anyway. I prefer to eat flowers and houseplants off people’s porches while they sleep.
The next morning dawned to reveal dozens of the mysterious beasts. I hadn’t seen this many large racks since our last stag party. Speaking of, they had obviously come here to mate or spawn or whatever they do, because now brightly colored beast babies were whirring about everywhere. Roaming in packs, these devilish offspring appeared even dumber than me. Speeding around in maddening circles, faster and faster until they fell over from exhaustion. Even more stupider was, after huffing and puffing, they would gather in another herd and start spinning around in circles all over again. Then I realized that these were the demonic creatures the elders talked of in hushed tones while standing in the street during foggy mornings.
They came each year with the first signs of spring, hundreds of them clogging our walking path—the road, I mean. It was one of these beasts that had attacked my great, great uncle Pokey, as he innocently took a morning stroll along the road at the bottom of the steep hill. Uncle Pokey was never the same after that. I decided to seek my revenge.
My ire was already piqued from the taunting of the beast babies tossing me GU energy gel packets of sweet nectar and I’m sure getting a big laugh as I excitedly rushed to each one only to find them empty. Between that and the water bottles they were throwing at me, I was really getting madder and madder. Then I spied it, an unopened packet, only to face the ultimate humiliation of not having opposable thumbs. Arggghh! Just then another bottle hit me square in the nose. That was it. I was about to go Rudolf on someone, but just as I was going to charge from the trees, something caught my eye. Hubba, hubba, who was this little doe-eyed dish crossing the road. Revenge could wait, look how daintily she traipsed my way, and look how … Wham! Oh well, there were plenty of fish in the sea in Lago.
Next year I’ll be waiting, and vengeance will be mine, waiting right here at the bottom of the steep hill, waiting right here to avenge my Uncle Pokey, waiting right here, in the middle of the road.