Reflections On a Windsheild

Friday I drove to Tennessee. It's an eight and a half hour trip and, normally, I put the car on cruise and put my mind in "the zone." But this time the traffic, construction, and weather were such, I was forced to focus on driving.

A drive so boring, I was driven to study the bug splats on the windshield for entertainment. They were large, small, smeared, round, square-shaped, pear-shaped; an entire gallery of yellow goo. My interest began to wane when I spotted one mushy, red splotch. My mind skipped a beat, then boggled. Do bugs have blood? It's something I've never considered. If they do, does that mean they have hearts? Arteries? Blood pressure?

I have since spent a great deal of time pondering this. I even asked my friend, a retired chemist, and his vague answer led me to believe he doesn't know and isn't particularly interested. But I can't stop thinking about it, not so it's driving me nuts, it just bugs me.