The bravest little bug I have ever known

On my way to the library from work yesterday, I noticed a little green bug on my windshield wiper. It was a cute little bug: maybe an inch or two long, green, with teeny slits for eyes and teardrop-shaped wings that folded over its back like a tent. (Unfortunately, my attempts at discovering the proper name, and therefore a photograph, of this little bug were so far unsuccessful, so you’ll just have to use your imagination.)

The bug had fixated itself upon a particular spot on the right winshield wiper. Maybe it smelled nice. Who knows? However, in the presence of a such a puny little pest, my megalomaniacal human tendencies got the better of me, and I spent the next mile or so trying my best to forcibly detatch the bug from my windshield wiper. I depressed the accelerator, I turned the wipers on (slow, then fast), and I even turned on the wiper fluid, drenching the bug.

Much to my surprise, this tenacious little guy had a death grip on that windshield wiper. His wings were folded back, and like a canoe into a strong gale he turned himself so as to reduce the wind resistance. Although the wind picked up greatly as I increased speed, causing his body to shake and toss from side to side, he held on with all of his might. Despite all the trauma through which I had put him, this steadfast bug held on with a fortitude that impressed upon me a sense of pride, hope, and guilt. At this point, I couldn’t stop the car, as I was out of the city and on a fairly major road with no place to turn off. Two thoughts ran through my mind: I wondered how long he would be able to hang on, and I wondered why the hell he didn’t let go while he still had a chance to survive being whipped over the car? After a while, I found myself rooting for him, hoping that he could hold on until I was able to stop the car and set him free.

The bravest little bug I have ever known stayed attached to my right windshield wiper for a good four miles, through 40-mph winds and a slight drizzle. He finally released his hold from that sweet-smelling spot at the corner of US Route 206 and Darrah Lane. I had to proceed the last half-mile to the library alone, wondering whatever became of him. I hope he lived to tell of his adventure.


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