Disclaimer: Transformers® belong to other people, not me. This was written as a parody, and no money is made. This is second, I guess, in the "Ironhide and her" series that is playing in my brain. This is (semi) based on a true-life-action-adventure story; in which I almost drove my truck into a Jersey barrier when I noticed a large spider living in my side-view mirror.
Also, for your information:
Fact: There are about 36,000 named species of spider (Order Araneae) on planet Earth.
Fact: One acre may contain 11,000 to 2.5 million spiders.
Fact-ish: You are within 3-6 feet of a spider at all times.
Ironhide and the others were cruising along, back to base. The back road they were traveling was deserted, and he was enjoying the momentary quiet when she started screaming inside his cab.
"Holy shit—holy shit—"
Not only the screeching startled him, but the fact that she was scrambling out of the driver's seat and into the passenger's, pressing against the passenger door, and pulling frantically at the release handle alarmed him as well.
"Let me out—stop—for the love of god let me out—"
Ironhide braked, skidded, almost tipped, and righted himself. He could hear the squealing of tires from the other 'Bots behind him. His passenger door was kicked open—ow, that stung—and she jumped out, still hysterical.
"What's wrong?" he roared, still rocking a little on his tires.
She was hyperventilating. "A-a spider—a GIANT SPIDER—"
One advantage to being a sentient robot with more than the equivalent of a super computer for a brain was the ability to process multiple pieces of data at one time. Automatically he ran an internet search for "giant spiders." He was bombarded with text and photos about pinkfoot goliath spiders, goliath bird-eating spiders, camel spiders, and The Giant Spider Invasion (1975). That information, coupled with the overwhelming amount of adrenaline pouring out of her—Ratchet had explained humans' "fight or flight response"—was infectious.
Ironhide, one of the eldest, most steadfast and rocksteady Autobots, cracked.
It was in his cab—he needed to transform—but if he transformed IT WOULD BE INSIDE HIM and how would he get it out get it out getitoutgetitout—
Ironhide was too lost in his own panic to notice his teammates and various humans standing around him in shock. He half shifted shape, resumed truck form, then repeated the process while the others watched. She was still shrieking too, which didn't help.
"What is going on?!"Optimus's normally calm voice became high-pitched at the end of his question.
"A spider!" came the equally high-pitched, raving answer.
As Ironhide had done, all the 'Bots accessed "spider" online. They exchanged bewildered glances.
"Get it out!" she and Ironhide demanded together.
Sam took a breath, steeled himself, and stepped forward to the trembling black truck. "Okay, 'Hide, just relax and I'll take care of it."
The teen gave himself a shake, pulled the driver's side door open and ducked, as if expecting the spider to launch itself at him. When nothing happened, Sam popped his head in the cab and looked around.
He found a small black spider, about the size of his smallest fingernail, dangling from a silk thread above the steering wheel. Carefully, he grabbed the thread and removed the spider. He backed out the door, and found that everyone was watching him closely.
"It's okay!" he announced. "I got it! Everyone is going to survive!"
"I can barely even see the arachnid," Bumblebee muttered. "Ironhide, you're never living this down."
Sam set the spider in the grass. "I think something that hasn't evolved passed primitive little book lungs in 300 million years isn't really a big threat."
"Shut up, Witwicky. It almost ate my face," she replied, only half-joking.
With shaking heads and chuckles, the Autobots resumed earth forms and left the still shaken duo behind.