|
You know those bizarre coincidences that happen sometimes? The ones where
if someone suggested it as something that might happen, you would laugh at
them and tell them it wouldn't happen in a million years? A few months ago, my parents and I went to Bainbridge Island on the ferry, just to drive around and take in the scenery. My dad wanted to look at old houses, my mom wanted to do that map thing she likes to do, where she holds the map and gives directions ("turn left on Peabody Drive. Okay, now right on Olive Street"), and I wanted to go to the weird little museums and shops. It was a sunny day, and I got to drive and listen to a poppy mix tape I'd made for the journey. We were driving in the truck, so we were all sitting up front and zooming down the street. I drove us to the cemetery where Chief Sealth was buried (it was a very pleasant, rickety graveyard, and his grave had longboats and so many gifts -- pictures, flowers, feathers, shoes...), then we zoomed away. The road ahead was the well-known country road, zipping over hills and around corners, a bright yellow line down the middle, and few other cars. My window was cracked open, and as I sped along, singing to my tape, I felt like something got sucked in the window and hit me in the neck. I jumped and yelled, 'cause it hit me with this sharp "thwack!" Just as that happened, a huge logging truck pulled onto the road with us, and started following us very quickly. I was insanely nervous and started weaving all over the road and checking my clothing. My dad did the "relax, relax, concentrate on the road" thing. Just as I was relaxing, something stung me on the shoulder. I was scared because it was stuck in my clothes with me, so I started wailing, "it stung me, it stung me!" There was nowhere to pull over, but I started to slow down, and the road was hard to see through my tears. The whole time, I was just waiting to get stung again. My parents, of course, started freaking out and told me to speed up (the logging truck was gaining rapidly, and showing no signs of slowing down, but it was still in my shirt. We finally found a spot to pull over and I'd hardly stopped the truck when I leapt out. My dad was searching my clothes, and my mom was searching the truck. We couldn't find it. I was sure it was still with me until my dad found it in his hand and threw it on the ground. Oh wow. We got some ice from a service station and that was the end of my driving for the day. |