He (maybe it was a ‘she’) appeared out of nowhere and dangled off the dashboard. The girly me gave a silent scream while being acutely aware that I was driving in traffic.
Fear begets more fear and the fact that he was waving a dozen (I know spiders only have eight legs but at that close proximity, it looked like double the amount) or so legs in all directions, captured my undivided attention.
Despite the mesmerizing rap dance, I had the foresight or was it fore-wisdom to glance up as the traffic had just come to a halt. Dread and rising fear drew my eyes back to the gargantuan arachnid, who had by this stage, decided to move up on to the top of the dashboard.
‘Kill it,’ my brain screamed.
‘Why is there no hammer when you need one?’ I bemoaned.
It was launching forward and moving fast and was pretty much in sync with the traffic that began to move at a rush.
‘I can’t watch it and the traffic,’ my brain cried!
‘I’ve got to put a stop to this!’ I firmly decided.
Before you could say, ‘Charlotte,’ I hit it with my bare errr … gloved hand.
The body arched a little and the legs quivered as though it was doing sit-ups on a mirror, and then it stopped.
I had to refocus on the traffic although the feeling of dread remained.
Shuddering visibly, I then stared in fascination at the spider. I thought about a friend who hysterically abandoned her car in traffic when a huntsman crawled out from under her visor. To this day we marvel that she escaped being killed on that freeway.
A family member emptied almost two entire cans of pest spray at a spider that had the audacity to take up residence across the corner of the entryway door to her garage. After the adrenalin rush of that marathon effort, she frantically called for her husband. She found him lying on the lounge deeply engrossed in a book.
In between gasps, she related the entire, terrifying episode to her patient spouse. She repeated the drama just in case he missed the absolute horror of it all and then implored him to come and check if it was dead.
He managed to pry his eyes away from the book and quietly told her she needn’t have used one can, let alone two cans on the spider. All she had to do was to ‘nag it to death!’
Although all these true-life stories appear to be centred on the fairer sex, our tough male counterparts can be equally as vulnerable. A male relative has a deep-seated fear of spiders. Whenever he sees one, he quickly retreats to safety while calling for his wife to get rid of the pest.
A burly friend confessed that there was no way he could spend a second in the same room as a spider! This gentle giant calls on his petite spouse to eradicate the offending hairy, creature whenever he spies one.
While these plucky ladies DO rescue their men, I have one final story to relate. My usually calm girlfriend raced into the house when a huntsman (what’s with these huntsman or is it huntsmen?) rushed across the interior car roof TOWARDS her and nano-seconds after she got in the driver’s seat. She frantically grabbed the spray can from the kitchen and raced back out to the car. She was already late for an appointment and that spider needed to be dispatched to spider heaven quick-smart.
Peering into the open car door, she searched the interior roof with dread. With mounting fear, she wildly scanned the back seat and the floor area but there was no evidence of the creature. In desperation, she waved the spray can all around the car and shut the door. ‘Hope you DIE an agonising death,’ she panted in anger.
The toxic smell and the fear of meeting it face to face again was enough for her to ring for a taxi. It took her an entire week before she could get back into her car. She never did find a shriveled-up corpse of the huntsman.
Thank heaven my spider was only a daddy-long-leg and not a huntsman but as far as I’m concerned, a spider is still a spider.
(C) Wendy Robinson All rights reserved
Fear has two meanings: ‘Forget everything and run,’ or ‘Face everything and rise.’ The choice is yours. ~Zig Ziglar
Is it incongruous that we, who are relatively large compared to an insect that is generally the size of the palm of a hand, can be reduced to quaking jelly when we see these creatures? Please feel free to share your ‘spider’ adventures with me.