The dangers of living in the country

I know that you might think that living in the country we do not get to see people very much. And it is true that I cannot walk out of my door and have a natter with a next door neighbour and I can’t just pop in to a cafe and catch up with friends who happen to be there. But you would be surprised how often I do meet up with friends – it’s just that you have to make more of an effort and it all has to be arranged and planned and when we do meet – we never stop taking – you see there is so much to say after only having our pets for company.
Well, anyway, I am trying to tell you about what happened last night. Now the nights are drawing in we all agreed to meet up for an evening meal in our nearest town to cheer ourselves up. I offered to pick up a friend in a nearby village and drive to the nearest town miles away.
What a good time we had catching up on news and ... well, just talking to a person and not a cat or bees or the like.
But at the end of the evening I was dismayed to find that in my hurry to enjoy myself I had forgotten to lock my car. If it was unlocked at home in the country this would not matter but here in the centre of town I could not believe how silly I had been. Anyway there was nothing of value in my car (only an old blanket in the back and I wasn’t bothered about that) and the car was still there so there was no harm done.
I drove my friend back to her house and we chatted away all the time and then as she opened the car door she remembered some very important bit of news that she had forgotten to tell me. Her big ginger cat sat on the garden wall waiting for her he washed himself and waited for someone to talk to him. Finally as my friends bit of news developed into another full blown conversation he gave up and jumped off the wall and disappeared into the darkness.
After another long while we had finally finished and my friend shut the car door and waved me off. What a good evening it had been. I drove happily into the midnight darkness. If you live in the country you will know how dark it gets – no street lights and no houses to lighten up the night sky – but we are used to it. I drove on down the country lanes looking forward to my bed. Then -
'Wow Woow'
An awful noise broke my sweet thoughts. AND IT WAS COMING FROM THE BACK OF MY CAR. I froze and a chill of fear ran down my back.
'Eee Eeee'
It was a blood curdling noise, agitated and angry.
My foot froze on the accelerator as I stared ahead and realised with shock that a man must have got into my car when I left it unlocked in the car park in town. He must have hidden under my old rug and now here he was coming out of hiding. I was on my own in the dark country lanes and I would be no match for his strength. I could be even driving his getaway car as he left the scene of some horrible crime he had committed.
I’d seen this thing happen in films. The stowaway gets up behind the driver and with a gun in the back or a knife at the throat he demands to be taken to a sea port or air port. Or even worse he puts his hands round the victim’s throat from behind and demands something else...
I drove on. What should I do? There were no houses to dash to and my own home was far away. I knew my mobile was carelessly thrown onto the passenger seat – could I reach it though? No I could not - he would grab my arm from behind long before my hand could grope for it let alone dial 999.
Eeee eee ooo ooow
I drove faster now seemingly frozen for ever in time space and darkness.
Then he started to push insistently at my left elbow from behind. My mouth was too dry to even shriek
His pushing was more insistent and forced my left arm to lift up – what next? I drove crazily now hurtling along with this menacing stranger. Then -
Mee oow!
What? You’ve guessed! It was my friend’s bemused ginger cat – just slipped onto my back seat for a rest on my rug and found himself on an unwanted journey and he was trying to tell me all about it. He stepped forward and sat on the front seat cleaning himself as I turned in the lane and drove him back home.