Trapped

Last evening I spent several suspense filled minutes trapped in my car. No, don't go getting the jaws of life or anything. Though perhaps some tomato juice would be in order. Can you see where this is going?

As I pulled into my driveway after yet another harrowing orchestra rehearsal (I swear I'm going to get better at this whole violin thing before long), I spotted something darting across the road in front of me toward my driveway.

I stopped, backed up slightly and shined my lights on it for a better look. I didn't get much better of a looksee, but it was definitely black and I distinctly saw some white on it's head region. What do I do now? What would you do? Dart up the driveway hoping the likely skunk wasn't on it's way up? Wait patiently at the bottom to see what the next move would be?

I did both. I waited a moment, then figured I'd dart up and hope it wasn't headed for my tires. I made it--no dead skunk in the middle of the road, stinkin' to high heaven--yet. So then what did I do, you may ask. Well, being as smart as I like to think I am, you might assume I'd hurry inside and lock the door. But no, I figured it'd headed on up the road and I decided to gather up a bunch of junk in preparation for my $700 car service tomorrow (why is it I feel compelled to clean out my car before it goes in the shop?).

Then, I began to exit the vehicle, arms full of garbage, having completely forgotten about the critter, when suddenly I hear leaves rustling over behind my shed. I jump back in, slam the door and spill garbage all over myself. Now what?

I turned on my cell phone--perhaps I should call Matt and he can . . . I dunno, do something. Oh yeah, no cell service here. Plan B--horn? No, lights! I start flashing my lights in it's general direction . . . nothing.

I wait, trapped in my car, for perhaps 10 minutes. Then, I open the door slowly and again those darn rustling leaves--but this time behind me! I look and the thing is running back down my driveway. I slam my door and start checking my rearview--hit the breaks to get a little breaklight shine going. Finally, I think he's gone. I grab my garbage and dash in the house.

Crap! I forgot my violin. I can leave my wallet on the front seat of my unlocked van, but I draw the line at my violin--especially if there is a skunk in the vicinity. So, I enlist Matt and his big flashlight and we head out again. Slowly, slowly, we're almost to the car. What's that noise?

Those darn leaves again. It's back behind the shed again. We turn tail and run back into the house. We spend the next 20 minutes shining flashlights out the back windows and finally it heads up the hill behind the house. We dart out to the car, grab the violin and run back in, locking the door behind us.

I think I need a glass of tomato juice.