When the scary vibrations came, you were there for me. Not “there” in a physical sense, though you were very close, but “there” in an emotional sense. The comfort your gaze brings me now as our wide eyes meet for the first time will stay with me forever.

The truth is I’ve been watching you for a while. Always lurking in the shadows, just out of sight, stroking my pedipalps while you sing out of tune or rant like a loon to a backdrop of talk radio. At first, I was frightened of you, unsure of your intentions, and your driving style did nothing to calm me. Frankly, you drive like an ass. And you get unreasonably angry at NPR. But that is neither here nor there.

The dash has been my home for five days now, ever since Linda carried me in on her cardigan. Why haven’t you called her yet? I liked Linda. The flies living here nourish me, as new generations constantly spawn from the rotten apple underneath the passenger seat. You must not have noticed it, or else surely you would have picked it up by now. Did Linda leave the apple? Is that why you haven’t called her?

My life has not been easy. Growing up with 393 siblings meant time with mom was a luxury, and it was not a luxury I could often afford. Mom believed in tough love, and would force me to fight with my brothers and sisters for every scrap of food or small crevice of shelter. I know you understand, given how upset you were when your mom called and said you can’t use her Netflix password anymore. Our shared trauma is just one of the things that unites us.

My friends told me I shouldn’t reveal myself to you, that it is too risky. Steven the Centipede in particular was worried that I would be met with nothing more than a swift hand and a swifter death. Have you not met Steven? Surprising, given he’s the mayor of Centipede City, right inside your seat cushion. Just another example of neighbors being divided in our technology-obsessed world. Sad.

Steven even tried to physically stop me from coming out here today. He has always been the more conservative of the two of us, ever since we met four days ago. He ran and called after me, his creepy little legs flailing about, and avoiding him was very tricky for he is very fast. But I am faster. Watch me now as I scamper across your dashboard in a demonstration of my blurring speed. Am I there? No, I am here! Aha, now I sit on the windshield! Now in a blink, I am back where I began! Hopefully you see that I am an arachnid at the height of my powers. The quiver in your lip shows me that you appreciate my physical feats.

I love my new home, except for the vibrations. They are extremely frightening. When they come they knock me to and fro, and an intensely unpleasant heat bathes my body. These eruptions are volcanic, almost cataclysmic. I fear and loathe them with all of my heart. I believe them to be the machinations of a great beast, whose lair lies deep inside the dash. This fiery behemoth is a scourge, a plague upon my home—our home.

And that is why I am here today, standing before you immersed in the light of the 9:30 AM sun (you’re running late I see). My days of watching you have led me to a startling conclusion: you have control over the beast and its vicious vibrations. You hold the key, metaphorically speaking of course (even I know keys are for doors). I have come to love you, but also to fear your arrival each morning. The beast sows misery in many ways.

It is my hope that by appearing in front of you today, we can find a solution. We can find some way to kill the horrid beast once and for all. Perhaps you could ask your brother Rick, since he, according to you, knows all? There must be some way!

Your raised hand is encouraging; I too desire an embrace. A symbol of a peaceful first meeting, a sign to a bright future together in which we tackle our shared, shaky enemy. I will rush forward to embrace you. Hurrah! Together we can kill the beast! Together we can—