That rattler just poked its head about six inches out of the heater hole and
stayed there, staring at me with its beady eyes and flicking its forked
tingue at me like it was waiting for me to get back and let it bite my leg.
Eventually I remembered that I had some clothesline rope in the trunk. When
I opened the driver's door to reach the trunk release, the damned thing
started hissing like an overheated 928, and I could even hear its rattles
clanking around inside the longitudinal. Anyway, I got the rope and
fashioned a little noose at one end of it, and after many attempts I managed
to lasso that sucker. I tossed the free end of the rope to the other side
of the car and went around, figuring that I would pull the snake out, fling
it as far away as possible and hightail it out of there with my dog. It was
a good plan, but there was just one problem-the snake must have been a
little fat in its midsection, and after I pulled about a foot and a half of
it out of the hole it got stuck, madder than ever, hissing and thrashing
like you wouldn't believe. I ended up having to drive fifty miles to the
next town with the free end of the rope tied to the passenger door pull,
Ferdinand tied up in the back seat, and that snake stretched and writhing
against my calves and trying like hell to bite my hand every time I shifted
gears. When I reached town, the mechanic at the gas station was about to
shoot some grease into the heater outlet to free up the snake, when suddenly
it started to come out under its own power. We ran and watched from a safe
distance as it exited the car and slithered off into the desert, leaving
behind nothing but its shed skin, which I saved and had made into a steering
wheel cover for my Karmann Ghia.
He was probably looking for the mice that came out the car in the shop.
The Stable, San Francisco
Jim Hinde's snake story is just about the best 356 story yet!
From: Jim Hinde
>That rattler just poked its head about six inches out of the heater
hole and . . . . .. I ended up having to drive fifty miles to the