I dropped the hood, screamed, jumped back, tripped over an empty windshield washer fluid bottle (it's the season), managed to stay on my feet, and ended up in the middle of the street, where fortunately there wasn't a car coming or this might have been tragedy, not comedy.
When I found my footing again, The Mate was still sitting in the passenger seat, open-mouthed by now. "Pop the hood again." I fumbled some more and got the hood open again as The Mate emerged from the car and I told him what happened, and filled up the windshield washer tank.
"You screamed like a girl," he said. Well, yeah. Hey, New York, after twenty-two years, it seems like you still have a surprise or two in store for me.
We got back in the car and I drove off, with my head practically sticking out of the roof of the car on account of being high on all that adrenaline. "Next time, knock first," said the ever-practical Mate.
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Eeeew!
ReplyDelete(Is there a way to scream like a boy?)
Sheesh. My heart is pounding. I would have reacted the same way. I wonder if you have read the story 1922 in Stephen King's latest short story collection. There's some nasty rats for ye.
ReplyDeleteI like hatchbacks, too (or if they're bigger, they call them "5 doors" now).
Once while we were away we left our truck parked in the driveway and a squirrel moved her large litter under the hood. When we got home, we took the truck down the street to the store, wondering what on earth this "squeak, squeak, squeak" - which we thought was mechanical - was the whole way. They weren't too cute, but at least they weren't as menacing as rats.
I had a Ford Fiesta that lived on Riverside Drive for a few years. Many mice lived in its heating system. Many. It was kind of astonishing.
ReplyDeleteAnd that was a hatchback - they are the best. It could swallow up anything.