Mouse in the Car

An unwelcome visitor

As a wedding present, my parents gave us the car that I used when I was in high school. It was a green 1963 Chevy Impala that I named "Irene, The Green Machine.". Shortly after the wedding, I was driving to work and it was raining hard. Unfortunately, Irene's windshield wipers were on the fritz. As I was creeping along, trying to see the narrow country road, I looked down at the hump on the floor boards between the front seats. There, sitting on his haunches and looking at me, was a little brown mouse.

I was born and raised a country girl. I take pride that I have personally reached into a cow to turn a calf. I have been run over a fence by a bull. I have been attacked by numerous roosters. (They hate me!) However, the day the mouse appeared in my car, I dissolved. I opened the car door and got out quickly. Unfortunately, the car was still moving. The result of completely losing my mind was some significant road rash, a car in the ditch with a blown tire and a never to be seen again mouse.

I'm not certain why he didn't like living in Irene. It may have something to do with the wild ride he took through a rough Wyoming barrow ditch.