Uneasy Rider

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I like to think of myself as a reasonably rational person, not prone to hysterics. I also like to think I’m Tori Amos or a veiled wood nymph at times, but neither persona would have saved me from myself last night as I drove my car alone in the dark.

I needed some quick raffle ticket money to give to my son before he left for his hockey practice, and since the cupboards were bare at home, I grabbed my keys, told Andrew I’d be back in ten and hopped in the car to find the nearest ATM.

As I pulled out of the driveway, I cranked the tunes and wailed along with Jeff Buckley, because that’s what middle-aged grownups do when their children aren’t shanghaiing the car stereo.  Eternal Life got me all the way to Oakwood Avenue before I heard the first unnerving sound behind my seat.

Maybe it was daylight savings, that exhausting extra hour of consciousness I’d already put in, or perhaps it was the insulin shock from inhaling too many teeny-tiny chocolate bars last week.  But whatever it was, my spidey senses were in overdrive.

The noise seemed to be getting louder the faster I went, so I turned down the volume and concluded that it must be coming from the back of the van.  As I rolled to a cautious stop, the noise grew even louder and my mind immediately raced to rabid squirrels and all their rabid squirrel friends having jumped in the car when the hatch was left open to load hockey gear who were now trapped inside the car, totally sick of Jeff Buckley and wanting to gouge my eyes out.

With that certainty in mind, I jerked the car to a frenzied stop, opened the door and threw myself out onto the pavement, wheels still slightly turning.  Then I did what any sensible woman would do:  I called my husband, squealing like a schoolgirl and begged him to come rescue me.

I could make this ending a man vs. rodent victory salute.  Or I could make the focus more on tidying up the crinkly discarded Tim Horton’s wrappers and loose soccer balls from inside the van.  Not sure which way to go …

(But it SO could have been a rabid man-eating squirrel.)

0 replies
  1. bakingnanny
    bakingnanny says:

    This so the kind of thing that I would do!! And as a nanny I know the feeling of rubbish in the car and discarded toys! My boyfriend however is less than understanding about the constant state of my car!

    Reply
  2. Cyndi
    Cyndi says:

    LOL! I can SOOOO relate! I’ve been the Nervous Nelly driver turning around to frantically locate a noise in the car while it still propels forward with me screaming at my children “BE MY EYES, KIDS! BE MY EYES!!!”. I’m sure that’s half the reason 2 of them don’t have a driver’s
    licence yet.

    Reply
  3. llanderson
    llanderson says:

    One time, when I was in high school, I was driving to school and saw something out of my peripheral vision on the windshield wiper on my passenger side. Looked over, and I’m not kidding it was a mouse on the wiper! I screamed and screamed and tried to pull over as the thing wobbled around and fell off the side of my car. Thank god I was young, that was a heart attack waiting to happen!

    Reply
  4. mewhoami
    mewhoami says:

    My first visit to your blog and I’m glad I landed on this post. It was a great laugh. I am nervous all the time. My husband can simply poke his head around the corner and I jump out of fear. Now he warns me as he’s coming down the hallway.

    Reply

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