Posted on Saturday, June 4, 2011
It happened today, a random brush with death, that awful moment when you realise there may be someone up there calling your number. I swear there’s an entity up there that does these things deliberately.
A three-lane motorway is a powerful thing. It gets you from A to B without you hardly having to even touch the road. It was here, at roughly 130kmph (81 mph for you metriphobes) that I got an itchy forehead. I was overtaking a fuel truck at the time so my scratching it was a very automatic thing. It never occured to me why my forehead was suddenly itchy until the culprit bounced off my nose and landed with a thud on my lap.
Yes, I felt a thud. This was a considerably large piece of something.
I glanced down (whatever this was would need an examination period of roughly a semi-split-second, to be exact) to see a spider scuttling between my legs towards the business end of my tracksuit bottoms.
It’s moments like these, when you’re hurtling along way above the speed limit and you suddenly learn that there’s a large spider roaming around beneath your crotch, this is when you truly feel alive.
Eyes on the road.
Eyes on the road!
I did eventually manage to pull my van onto a slip road and escape fairly sharply into a random carpark in Firhouse where I promtly exited the vehicle to do The Spider Dance. You know the one, it’s an arms and legs all over the place with much self-smacking sort of affair… hilarious to watch but very uncomfortable to perform.
Someone laughed and beeped as they passed. You know who you are. I have your registration number. Expect an eight-legged parcel through your letterbox really soon, bud.