Traffic Report #3

I carpooled home from work the other day, though no gas was saved in the process (sorry Molly). While on the freeway, a bee alighted on my windshield, right atop a white sticker, plainly thinking it a flower. I drove a bit - a mile or two - waiting for the bee to fly away, having learned there was nothing to be gained from rubbing Louis. But the bee stayed and rubbed. Rubbed and stayed. I grew concerned for the little bee, driving farther and farther away from what I assumed must be his home. And I was also a little concerned for me, fearing being stung by the lost and bewildered bee upon exiting my car.

As I crawled along the freeway, I tried to smush him with the windshield wiper, but he was barely out of range. I tried a new tactic and tapped on the glass, hoping this would dislodge him. I tapped and tapped. But he stayed and rubbed. Finally, miraciously, he rubbed his way over juuuust enough to allow me to startle him off Louis with the wipers. I was glad an amicble end could be reached. I didn't get stung and the bee didn't get smushed. Though I made it home and I'll never know if he did the same.