Innocently driving home yesterday with my son … when something came from behind us, flew in the open window, smacked against the wind shield and landed in parts unknown.

Yes, I said ‘came from behind’ more on that later.

So we both acknowledged the ‘happening’ and exchanged glances.  Then I put my eyes back on the road as Nic looked down.

“There’s something on your leg.”

Rule #1:  Don’t ever tell someone driving a car that there is anything foreign and quite possibly alive ON them.

Me:  What?!?!?!  What’s on me????? What is it???

Nic:  I don’t know … it’s a spot … on your leg.

By now, I’m imagining this:

I don’t think that’s too far-fetched considering we DO live in the desert and there are any number of hard-shelled creepy crawlies that could show up on a bare leg.

Okay, so 99% of them don’t FLY, but some sadistic bastard could have tossed it from the side of the road?  That would explain why it came from behind us while going 35 MPH.

Back in the car, I’m calmly trying to pull over to investigate what part of nature has violated my personal space.

And why is my son so calm?? Why is he not trying to save me???

On the side of the road, I bravely look down.

Nothing.

“That was already there!”  The spot turned out to be a scratch from earlier.

“Yeah, but that might be what flew in …”

I followed his eyes down to the floorboard – right next to my foot.

Got out of the car and grabbed a cloth I have handy in case of such emergencies (mostly it’s for when I spill my coffee while driving.)

A bee.

My son announced, “It’s still alive – it’s on it’s back.”

I could see this.

I gently (yes, gently, no sarcasm here) collected it in the cloth and walked to a nearby bush to shake the poor little thing off.

It wasn’t coming off.

Now I’m laughing – on the side of the road, shaking a blue cloth.

Bee hung on tight – until it didn’t.

I’m back in the car and we start off home again.

Nic pondered, “How did it come from BEHIND us??  It had to be going faster than us!”

“That’s not hard to believe …”  I pondered back – recalling how many things pass me on the road – sloths, snails, limping pedestrians, … parked cars.

“Maybe it was suicide.”  Nic concluded.

I sighed … “Bee suicide … that’s sad.”