THE WORLD'S FASTEST SPIDER Copyright, 1991. Andrew Varga It was a crisp Autumn morning as I slowly backed out of the driveway on my way to work. Having spent the night under our only tree, a gargantuan maple, my car was heavily laden with multicolored red, yellow, and orange leaves. I hadn't gone very far when I thought I noticed something move in a strange way toward me across the car's hood. Not until it had surmounted my windshield did I see that it was a big, ugly, black spider, hairy legs and all. I hate spiders, and right then and there I decided I didn't need a traveling companion that had eight hairy legs. The spider had to go. In an effort to persuade it to leave, I pushed the wiper button. "Dope-dope dope-dope" they went, but that fat black creature hung on tenaciously. "Well, if I can't shove it off," I said to myself, "I'll wash it off." And I pushed another button. The heavy spray of washer solution momentarily blurred the entire windshield. Some rude driver blasted his horn as we passed. I'd have reported him for disturbing the peace except that I couldn't see well enough to recognize the vehicle. As my windshield cleared, I gaped in disbelief. The spider was riding behind my wiper like a water skier behind a boat! I quickly swerved to the left and then to the right. I swear, that big ugly sucker looked as though it was enjoying the ride! "Its either him or me," I muttered and I pushed down hard on the accelerator. When I hit sixty, the wind blew two of its legs out from under it. At seventy, two more went. By the time I was doing eighty-five, the spider was hanging on by only one leg. "Just a little more and you're history!" I shouted triumphantly. It was exactly then that I heard the siren. That old spider sat right there on my wiper and leered at me as I waited at the side of the road for the policeman to walk up to the car. "Do you know how fast you were going?" he asked me as he began writing out the ticket. "No sir, I don't," I guiltily replied. "Why were you speeding?" I looked straight ahead, my mind racing for a plausible answer. I figured he wouldn't believe the real reason, and a ticket is preferable to a breathalyzer test any time. I gasped in amazement. The spider -my evidence- was gone! "Sir, are you all right?" the policeman asked. "Ugh, yes, yes, I'm fine. I don't know, officer. I'm usually a very careful driver." He handed me the ticket. "You can either pay this at the courthouse or you can send a check to the Department of Motor Vehicles at the state capital. From now on slow down and drive carefully." I sat waiting as he returned to his car, feeling foolish and muttering under my breath, "As soon as he leaves, I'm getting the tire iron from the trunk." A genuine smile bloomed across my face as I watched the policeman turn off the flashers and slowly pull out around me. It's a good thing he didn't look at me as he passed, I was laughing hysterically. I almost waved, at my hairy nemesis, perched there on top of his hat.