One very small seatbelt needed

I drove a cicada eighty miles round trip today.

Not by invitation, though he was a good passenger. Quiet, didn't complain when I was practicing chanting yoga sutras, and rarely fidgeted. In fact, I didn't discover him until I pulled into the garage, turned off the engine, and the heater or carburetor or something mechanical continued whirring. I jiggled the gear shift, looked under the pile of books on the floor, and finally turned the engine on again to see if the mysterious rattle would stop when I turned it off.

Then I saw him. Sitting in the cup holder, upside down, rattling his wings. I grabbed the very long supermarket receipt, the closest piece of paper I could find to place a barrier between me and the cicada, and lifted him out of the cup holder. As quickly as I could, before he could bite or attack, I pushed him out the door. Horrifying.

I'd promised myself that I wouldn't write one more post about cicadas. But it'll probably be another 17 years before I take a road trip with a cicada, and it seemed a moment to commemorate. I promise I'll try to stop now.

If you're here for the knitting, I've sewn together the seventh and eighth squares and started knitting Number Nine: bright pink and bright orange with butter yellow and a soft peach color. Pictures to come next week. And I managed to chant sutras 1 through 3, Book I, fairly on key and close to the proper accent.