Despite my best intentions, spiders give me the willies. I'm brave enough to be the "go-to" gal when it comes to slaying them, but inside I'm shaking with gutless wonder. I resist the urge to run screaming into the night as I "fearlessly" defend life, liberty and the pursuit of the perfect taco pizza (Godfathers!) from imminent attack from these vicious 8-legged freaks (yes I saw that movie).
That said, put the wayback machine a few years ago (okay a lot of years ago), to when I was 8 years old. I lived in the small town of Alvin, Texas, and one of my favorite things was riding my bicycle everywhere. Being the youngest of five, I spent too many years on a three-wheeled bike that had no hope of keeping up with my two-wheeling siblings as they barreled out of sight. Until one day my oldest brother Randy had had enough and made me get on the two-wheeler and learn that day how to properly ride a bike. From then on, I was free.
It didn't take long before I went exploring and found a network of bike trails worn through a forest that was just a few blocks away. Death-defying sharp turns, gullies and hills, every day was a trial of reaction, speed and nerve. I thrilled with the power of my bike, my courage, and my skill.
Until the day I met up with the devil on 8 legs.
Texas has these arachnids called "banana spiders". They are large-ish with bright, colorful bodies and very long legs and are prone to building webs that are so large, they span the distance from the lowest tree branches down to the ground. They do not seem harmful to humans. Their webs are another story. Every Texan kid can tell you how we always walk through any forested areas with a long stick ahead of us, constantly circling our stick over the path ahead. Just to make sure.
Wait, did I say every kid and always? Hmm, makes one wonder what I was thinking that fateful day.
So here I am, barreling along those forested bike trails, putting on speed to challenge myself to the utmost with spinning around that crazy razor-sharp turn (and I made it too), when BOOM I notice at the last split-second that somehow, unbelievably, there's a web that stretches completely across the trail. A web that had not been there an hour ago. And sitting in the middle of this huge web was a banana spider.
I tried to brake, but there was no way I could reduce my momentum in that split-second. My bike and I plowed through the web and beyond. I crashed to the ground and had an immediate problem.
I just knew that spider had to be on me somewhere.
I completely lost it. Screaming my head off, I left my bike in the woods and pelted for home, slapping all over myself the entire way. Still in mind-numbingly fatal danger, I ran to the bathroom, stripped down and jumped into the shower to try to rinse that horrible thing off me. Still screaming. And slapping at myself.
The end result? I never did find the spider. I only rode on the streets. Things are fuzzy but I seem to recall getting one of my older brothers to help me retrieve the bike while I cautiously crept behind--the day after. No way was I going back right away. In the years that followed, I never failed to have my trusty stick with me, circling ahead. I do that to this day.
Stupid spiders.
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