An Unwelcome Hitch Hiker

It was a Friday night and Meb (My very English Boyfriend) had dutifully arrived at the airport to pick me up. I opened the car door and he frantically greeted me with…

“Quick, get in and close the door, there’s a spider on the car!” It should be noted that the placement of comers in this quote are in the interest of good grammar, there were no such pauses in Meb’s speech.

Naturally, I did as he said, quietly hoping that I’d been quick enough to keep the spider on the outside of the car but also having an enthusiastic giggle at his obvious terror. Truth be told, I was scared too. I couldn’t see the offending spider so, for all I knew, I could’ve let it in.

My relief came when we stopped at a set of lights and the spider appeared on the outside of my passenger window…


Meb, on the other hand, was far from relieved…

“Why won’t it get off? I’ve been doing 80km/h! How is it still on the car? It’s got sticky feet the little fucker!”

Brits don’t like spiders. Especially when they’re about the size of a wing mirror, hairy and you can count all eight of their beady little eyes from where you sit. The rant of horror continued as I snapped the picture…

“This must be what they do for kicks on Friday nights, jump on cars and terrorize humans!” He wasn’t laughing, he was genuinely angry at this creature for cramping his style, invading his space, planting his sticky feet all over his auto-mobile!

We managed to make it home without a closer encounter but the evacuation from the vehicle was a little bit intense. There was a bit of “you go first”, “no, you go first”, followed by a count of three, synchronised door slams and a bee-line for the insect repellent. I had barely sprayed it when it leapt off the car (for the record, Meb leapt higher) and legged it across the driveway. Hopefully it won’t be joyriding with us again any time soon.


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