A Giant Quantity of Nope
This morning, like most weekday mornings, I hopped into my trusty old Jeep, fired ‘er up and took off, careening toward my place of employment.
As I traversed one of my hometown’s very busy main roads, I glanced into my sideview mirror, as any safe driver would do.
As I glanced, I saw a little leggy burble and a pop and this thing emerged:
See the hinge for the mirror? It had somehow packed itself in there.
I should note that I was so startled that I had to pull over to the side of the street and consider my options. Also to take a photo to send to The Good Man. It was essential to document the situation in case my Jeep and I were later found suspended from a stop light, wrapped in silk and drained of fluids.
Let me zoom in a little closer for ya.
The Good Man refers to this time of year as “Chunky Spider Season.” It’s true, our current hometown is very, er, spidery. More than any place I have ever lived. And they are often quite big. And chunky.
At home, I park on the street near a tree and some brush. These eight legged demons seem to consider the Jeep part of their homestead. I often brush webs off every corner of the Jeep, including when they manage to string webs across my roof rack.
But this, today, goes beyond the pale.
How about an even closer look, because you need to know my fear.
After snapping photos, I cinched up, put on my determined face, then re-entered the roadway at speed hoping this sumnabitch would fly off in the wind. No such luck. It first hunkered down, then feeling carefree (I assume), it later spread all eight of its legs as though surfing the breeze.
Hitting speedbumps at a hard pace didn’t seem to help either.
Soon, I arrived at work and had to unroll this window to reach out and badge into the garage. Thankfully my new overlord didn’t seem to flinch much.
But it’s still there. Still hanging out like it owns my Jeep. Like I am just a pawn in its spidery game.
I am currently unable to exit the Jeep. This is my life now.
Someone please send help! To the passenger side, though.
The Good Man did some research based on photos and determined this is a Cross Orbweaver and that it isn’t poisonous. Fab. I’ll remember that when it singsongs my name and tells me to “come out and play.”
All photos ©2016 Karen Fayeth, and subject to the Creative Commons license in the right column of this page.