I got into my car to run errands yesterday.
I should stop here and tell you that I park my car under the tree, that way it’s in the shade, which is a very important choice down in the south end of north.
So, my car is under this gorgeous shade tree when I get in.
I start it up, drive past the garage and out the gate.
I’m almost at the road when two little green geckos dash down the windscreen and take refuge on the windshield wipers. Apparently, they’d been lounging on the roof, which has no grip.
I stop and consider if I should take them to Walmart with me, then decide ‘no’ because it’s a death sentence for them in that huge green-less parking lot. So, I back up the driveway to the nearest shrub and park.
Have you ever chased a gecko? Ever tried to herd it in a specific direction? My neighbors, had they looked, would have called the loony-wagon out of concern.
There was a lot of hand waving, dashing from one side of the car to another, an attempt to crawl across the hood (because I got tired), and finally a therapeutic violent bashing of a leafy branch across the windscreen – which worked.
The two geckos jumped into the shrub for safety. I did not wish them well at this point; in truth, I was rather cross, and may have swore.
All sweaty, hot and grumpy, I tossed the leafy branch into the garden and climbed back into the car.
I drove to Walmart with images of leaves beaten into the dust on my windscreen and a great long slide of a hand print. By the time I got there, I was much calmer, and was happy I’d ‘rescued’ the geckos from frying in the parking lot.
Even the people at Walmart were happy, they all smiled at me, I smiled back. Until, I passed a mirror and noticed that I’d ground road dust across my midsection and chest – every time I’d leaned on the car to chase those little critters I had rubbed dirt into my clothes, front only, the sides and back were still clean and spotless.