"On the right, two doors past the 'deer zing' sign", I said to my traveling companion, as he gave me a lift home. The car swerves, as the fellow lets out a thunder of laughter. "That's a DEER CROSSING sign!", he hollers in my ear, as he corrects his steering. It'll always be Deer Xing to me, however you say it. And if you're looking for me, I'll be gardening in it, too.
