I haven’t driven a car in about 18 years.

Okay, that’s slightly misleading. I have driven a full-size Ford Bronco (1990-1994), two minivans (1994-2002), and a Dodge Durango truck (2002-present) during that interval. The Bronco was purchased BK (”Before Kids”) to roar around in the snowy, Iowa City winters, the two minivans were driven when I was muddling through the SK (”Small Kids”) years, and the Durango was the result of a severe case of BF (”Busy Family”). In other words, the Durango fits seven passengers, is dog-friendly, and is way cooler than a minivan—just ask my husband.

But the Durango recently passed the 108,000-mile mark, I have a commute of 40 minutes each way—and did I mention that the Durango gets about 12 miles to the gallon? So we decided that we should keep the truck for bad weather, hauling, and as an extra vehicle for the kids to drive, but it was time for me to get a smaller, more fuel-efficient car for commuting.

I still don’t know what came over me, but a couple of weeks ago I ended up getting a cute little 2-door (a 2-door!) coupe with a moon roof. Oh, I was so happy, zipping around town in my diminutive, sporty vehicle, which my (occasionally eccentric) teenage daughter named “Sheldon.” Even though the back seats folded down easily to accommodate things like cellos and electric bass amps (everything, that is, except for this), my new purchase was definitely not a “family” car!

I felt slightly scandalous driving Sheldon. Like I was pretending to be someone else. Someone whose other car wasn’t encrusted with ketchup and Monster spills. Someone who didn’t find stray athletic socks, candy bar wrappers and school fundraiser announcements crumpled under her seats. Someone whose vehicle had that “new car” smell, instead of that “old dog” smell. Someone who got 30 miles to the gallon. Someone who actually enjoyed driving again.

Last Saturday afternoon was beautiful and sunny, so my daughter and I decided to take Sheldon on a joyride to Target to pick up some odds and ends. We were in a great mood as we opened the moon roof to let in the early-autumn breeze, and we turned up the radio as we sang along to T.I.’s “Whatever You Like.” Mother-daughter bonding at its finest. As usual we turned into the deserted road that goes behind Target instead of driving across the parking lot–when it happened. What shall forevermore be known as “The Incident” in our family.

The Incident:

In short, something mysteriously dropped out of the sky and fell with precision through Sheldon’s moon roof, landing on my leg as I was driving. Oh, and I should probably mention that the “something” was alive. As in, some sort of bug/insect (moth? hornet? tarantula? frog? bat? badger? piranha?). Me being me, of course I instantly started shrieking and batting at the poor Creature as though we were in Egypt, surrounded by a plague of locusts. My daughter picked up on the screaming/batting, and the scared Creature started buzzing around the car, looking for a way to escape from the two hysterical passengers.

Naturally, a sane person would have merely opened both car windows and gently guided the Creature out. But this would have required 1) me to be sane, which clearly doesn’t happen in the presence of uninvited Creatures, and 2) a solid knowledge of the car’s electronic controls, knowledge I DIDN’T HAVE BECAUSE, UM….THE CAR WAS BRAND NEW! So, in the chaotic 20 seconds or so that followed, I’m pretty sure I honked, cleaned the windshield, popped the trunk, engaged the emergency brake, swerved, unlocked the doors, and changed the radio station (all while frantically smacking myself in the head in case the Creature was in my hair), BUT I COULDN’T GET THOSE WINDOWS DOWN in my panicked state.

So I threw Sheldon into park (luckily, all this careening took place as we were still behind Target) and my daughter and I tumbled out of the car, along with the grateful, gasping . . . grasshopper. There he sat on the pavement, looking at me like, “Really? That was necessary?” Before he could change his mind, we jumped back in the car, CLOSED THE MOON ROOF FOR ALL ETERNITY, and slowly drove around to the front of Target, sheepishly looking around to see if the Incident had been witnessed by anyone else. Luckily, it appeared that we had made a clean getaway.

Our hearts pounding, we were silent for a while as we parked. Finally, we started quietly giggling, trying to imagine what we must have looked like, our mirth increasing until we ended up out of breath from the laughter. Seriously, what are the odds that a grasshopper is going to jump through your moon roof? My daughter finally said, “I think it was a practical joke from above. I’ll bet that God and Jesus just high-fived each other up in heaven!”

Well, I suppose I can take a joke.

Just this once.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 29th, 2008 at 2:48 pm and is filed under parent. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.