I was so humane, pulling onto a quiet side street so you wouldn't get blown off my windshield and squished. I carefully transported your big garden-spider butt to safety in the scrub beside the road. But then you headed straight into the street! I tried redirecting you several times before you got too far out, but you were determined. At that moment, cars began streaming down the hill. There were many close shaves in those five minutes, but you got through, almost to the opposite curb, well out of the way of the last oncoming vehicle, a maintenance truck. That is until the truck inexplicably slowed and pulled to the curb—right toward you! WTF?! I stared horrified as the right front tire slowly rolled to a stop right over where you were, the driver oblivious, lost already in his smartphone. From where I was, I couldn't tell whether you squeaked through or became the punch line in an improbably elaborate cosmic joke. Was it destiny or perverse chance that made the truck stop where it did? I sure hope you made it!
