It is one of the most horrifying,
unnerving experiences you can have while driving, and it happened to
me just the other day.
I was cruising down the road, enjoying a sunny Okanagan day like I have done countless times. It was not so hot I had to have the air conditioning on, so I had my window open.
I was cruising down the road, enjoying a sunny Okanagan day like I have done countless times. It was not so hot I had to have the air conditioning on, so I had my window open.
That's when it happened.
I actually heard the insect hit the
door jam of my car and I saw a black mass out of the corner of my
eye.
I knew the condor of bugs had just
entered my vehicle, but what I didn't know was the status of the bug
- what kind of bug it was and how pissed off it was over being
clobbered by my import.
I glanced to my left and saw a black
figure – roughly the size of a full-grown ostrich – on the top of
my seatbelt near the window...near my head.
And then it was gone.
I do not want to say panic set it...
It did set in, I just don't want to say
it.
When you come right down to it, there
really are only two types of bugs on this planet: ones that will hurt
you, and ones that won't.
The odds of a bug this large being some
sort of engorged lady bug were very slim, so my mind immediately went
to the kind of bug that can cause pain.
It was no longer on my the top of the
seatbelt near my head, so that means it was in the car somewhere.
My first fear was it had fallen between
me and the seat and it was getting ready to deliver the mother of all
stings or bites – or both.
Travelling down the highway and 100-ish
km/h is not a good time to have an insect attack, well, no time is a
good time, but barrelling down the blacktop is an even worse time.
I reached around behind my back trying
to locate the beast before it took its revenge upon me for hitting it
with my car.
I reached around as far as I could then
sort of lifted myself off the seat as best I could to see it maybe
the monster was on the seat – not an easy thing to do at highway
speeds, but I know we have all done it.
The whole time I am searching, I am
also waiting. Waiting for the searing pain that only an angry insect
can deliver.
By now I had slowed down considerably
and was pulling over to the side of the road, getting ready to
evacuate my car like it was on fire.
I stopped, jumped out and danced around
the side of the road for a minute with terrifying thoughts running
through my mind.
What it went down my shirt and was just
knocked out, soon to awaken and bring down its wrath upon me?
Not good.
So I thrashed about for a minute trying
to make sure Jurassic bug was not in or on my clothing.
It was not, so that means it was still
in the car.
Gulp.
I looked on the driver's seat and found
nothing. A gargantuan beast of this size could not easily hide, so it
had to be in there somewhere.
I opened the back door and looked on
the rear seat and again saw nothing.
Had I imagined it? Was the bug some
sort of hallucination brought on by my dislike of insect vermin?
No, I know what I saw and heard, and what I saw and heard was a bug hit my car and and bounce inside.
No, I know what I saw and heard, and what I saw and heard was a bug hit my car and and bounce inside.
It was in there alright. Perhaps it was
hiding, healing and regaining its strength for an attack.
I then looked on the floor next to the
seat and there it was – a wasp.
Not just any wasp, but a monster wasp,
at least two pounds worth of wasp.
Well, maybe it wasn't that big, but it
was big enough.
I dispatched the beast and went on my
way – with the windows rolled up of course.
Copyright 2016, Darren Handschuh
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