Just when I think it’s safe to leave the house, nature, not content to menace me IN MY OWN HOME decides to take the show on the road.
I was driving home after a most fantastic and relaxing night with my dearest of friends. We had enjoyed the loveliest meal, most pleasant conversation, and all was right with the world. I was cruising along in the car, listening to the radio and the hum of the highway when I realized I was not alone in the car!
No, it wasn’t a bogeyman popping up from the back seat. It was a big fat hairy spider, a spider of EPIC proportions. A spider that was happily — and quite jauntily I might add — parading his (her?) self across the inside of the windshield. The monster was INSIDE THE CAR! If only there HAD been a hook-for-a-hand psycho in the back seat HE could have killed the spider and I really think I would have been all the better for it.
I’m proud to say that I am not afraid of a little old spider. I am, however, more than a little leery of a spider that appears capable of wrestling the steering wheel out of my hands. It was late and I had no desire to go on an insect-inspired joy ride.
This spider was huge. You think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. As it scuttled back and forth across my windshield, I had to repeatedly crane my neck around it. I couldn’t risk it blocking my view of oncoming traffic.
All I could think was “please don’t be a jumping spider, please don’t be a jumping spider, PLEASE be a flat-footed, clinging-to-the-windows-and-deathly-afraid-of- heights spider.”
Then he leapt like a tiny cheetah spider from the windshield to the dash.
Turns out it WAS a leaping spider.
I had slowed the car considerably as I wrestled — figuratively if not literally (yet) — with what I was going to do with my unwelcome stowaway.
I was now driving with my hands clenched firmly in a white fisted grip at 10 and 2 just like my driving instructor taught me back when I was so hesitant a driver that the greatest danger I faced was being lapped by an 8-year-old on a 10-speed.
I had another 40 minutes of drive time and my furry-legged passenger seemed in no hurry to leave. If anything, I think he was thinking about cozying up to me.
I kept my eyes on the road, but when I’d check spider position I could swear it was growing closer by the minute. After the leap from windshield to dash, I really couldn’t trust this spider to stay put at all.
Considering the bulk and size of the thing, I spent a few anxious moments wondering if it required an infant seat or was of considerable length and weight to qualify for a booster seat.
Not because I’m aspiring to PETA membership, but because it would make an awful splat and, frankly, I don’t have the stomach for it. If only some nice hunter would have come along and dispatched it quickly, I would have happily let him have the head for mounting above a fireplace.
Finally I did what I always do when beset by troubles in the car. I turned up the radio and steadfastly ignored it. The spider and I rode home without issue (I think it likes classic rock).
On the plus side, with the spider on board, I think I now qualify for the carpool lane.