I drive the road between Stratford and Solihull eight times a week. I have done for over two years. It’s interesting to me how every journey will still bring some new experience.
It was nearly midnight, and raining heavily. The wipers were on and working hard, and I noticed a particularly persistent clump of bird shit clinging to my windscreen. I hate cleaning cars, so I quite like it when the rain does the job for me. I hoped I’d have a sparkling view by the time I got home. A few minutes later the clump detached itself and lowered abruptly onto the dashboard.
I smiled at my mistake, and continued to drive through the countryside outside town. A few minutes later streetlights appeared, and I spotted the spider.
I used to seriously dislike spiders. I’m a bit better now, and sometimes even find small ones quite cute. But if they have bulbous bodies, forget it. I don’t pretend this is rational. I don’t seriously think they’re poisonous. They’re just nasty. The one on my dashboard had voluminous lumps for a torso. Urgh.
An unpleasant spider crawling over your dashboard is quite distracting, but just about bearable. But when it starts heading for the steering wheel, something has to be done.
I pulled over at the first opportunity, opened the window and turned on the light. The spider veered and headed towards the radio. I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. The spider started to slip into the crack of the cd-box above my radio. He was half inside when I clicked open the sprung flap, intending to scoop him up onto the paper and out of the window.
Did you spot my mistake?
The sprung flap. The spider pinged into the car. His initial trajectory was underneath the light, so I knew he was somewhere in the front, and not on me. But that’s all I knew, and I couldn’t find him.
I have never itched so much in one five-minute journey.