And then, along came a spider


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.

No fear

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.

Lucky me.

Slow ride

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.

I couldn’t kill it

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.


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Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless.



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