Close Encounters with a UFO

Imagine for a moment you are in the passenger seat of Kim’s car, a two-door canary yellow Toyota Corolla circa 1979. Kim is driving and chatting happily as the car motors along the western highway to a recreational lake and water catchment area, about 80 or so km from the city and your home. Kim parks right in the parking bay at the water’s edge, adjacent to a water ski landing area.

The canary yellow Corolla and me:

Circa 1981

Darkness is falling fast like a curtain lapping the lake’s extremities. In the diffuse light, you note there are campers on the opposite shore, the flickering flames of their struggling campfire partner with disconnected voices wafting slovenly across the waves.

You begin to relax and drink in this evocative twilight placidity, enjoying the sweet ripples of calm sweeping through your body after a busy day at work. You’ve been looking forward to getting away from work and overnighting at the friend’s family cabin. Right now, your only complaint is the absence of a glass of wine that would nicely complement the unwinding serenity of the evening.

After about 20 minutes, your attention is caught by something in the northern sky, out through Kim’s side window. A strange light emerges through the clouds way off in the distance. First one, then two lights, amongst a sky of stationary stars that twinkle predictably.

Shiny stars the lights could be, if they weren’t furiously darting back and forward so quickly, their paths crossing impulsively and sporadically over one another, flashing red, then blue, then green. You surmise they are manoeuvring way too fast and too erratically for a regular aircraft. This is worrisome. Kim on the other hand simply finds it curious.

You are conscious there’s a Defence force airfield located somewhere in that direction. Feeling satisfied that’s a potential explanation, your attention shifts back to gazing over the black waters in front of the car, and unruffled thoughts of what to do on your next days off from work, or on what to eat for dinner float into your consciousness.

The conversation between you and Kim on some, now long-forgotten topic intensifies but finishes abruptly when you hear a cry emanate from the campers on the opposite bank of the lake.

You look up through the windscreen and see the lights that were over in the western sky are now located in the sky directly in front of the car. They appear to be the size of a soccer ball but it’s impossible to judge their distance away from you, in the indistinguishable half-light of evening.
“Are they getting closer?” Kim is confused.

You don’t reply, you are fixated on the lights.

Neither you nor Kim can offer any explanation as to the absence of any noise of an aircraft engine, rotating helicopter wings or low-level motorized propulsion sounds.
“What are they? “ Kim asks, baffled.
“I have no idea,” you reply, beginning to shift in your seat and scratching your head a little; something you do when you are feeling nervous.

Kim turns to the car’s console where she’s stashed a bag of lollies and unwraps a Mintie, popping it into her mouth. You decline the offer to take one.
“Maybe it is a search party for a missing person,” you venture.
You and Kim strain to listen for further sounds but there’s nothing but silence. Even the campers on the opposite shore are quiet.
Kim mutters something. Trying to speak clearly with the Mintie insitu, is difficult, “I d-d-dunno anything that’d mm-move that fast. What if it is aliens?”

Again, you say nothing. That is, until two conical beams of white light emerge from the bright soccer balls lights in the sky. They illuminate the surface of the lake about 100 metres in front of Kim’s car. You inhale quickly and stifle a gasp. You know that noise you make when something startles you?

The lights, now two cones shift about on the water’s surface and creep closer. They are soon lighting up the bonnet of the car. Both of you are transfixed. The lights continue moving gradually towards the car and soon illuminate the entire front cabin where you are seated, bathing you and Kim in intense white light.

At this point, you offer some pressured words to Kim, “What the hell. I don’t like this. It’s freaky. Let’s get out of here. Now!” The panic rises in your throat and your voice is filled with urgency. You note the concern on Kim’s face, spotlighted by the intense brilliance of the light. With that, Kim reaches for the ignition switch, starts the car, slams the gear stick into reverse and turns to look out the rear window; as you do when reversing out of a parking bay.

What you see next haunts you for over 40 years.

As Kim reverses the car, she turns on the forward-facing headlights. They light up a dark area of water offshore, revealing four shiny crescent-shaped objects hovering about three metres above the lake’s surface. Shiny, solid and arranged two by two. Your mouth gapes and for those few moments you completely freeze, saying nothing. You grip the edges of the car seat.

You and Kim drive away.

“Did you see those shiny moon-like shapes hovering over the water?” you ask Kim, when safely back on the main road and away from the lake.

“No!” she says a little surprised but also intrigued. “I was looking backwards, reversing the car. You said we had to go. We should have stayed,” and then continues emphatically, “I’m sure those lights were UFOs. This area is renowned for unexplained lights. We should go back next weekend.”

You don’t reply, as you are now deep in thought. You tell almost no one of my experience that night lest they think you crazy, drunk or something else.

Kim disappears from your life after this night. Life happens and friends lose contact, don’t they? Their paths simply never cross again. Occasionally at night, you think about that night and wonder where Kim is now. Did she ever return to the dam to chase strange lights? Was Kim abducted by an alien presence?

This is a true story. What would you think if it happened to you?

Postscript: Almost a year after this night, I drive by my friend Kim’s parents’ home and stop to say hello, mainly because I spot the canary yellow Corolla parked on the street. No one answers the front door, despite a variety of household sounds emerging from within. I have never been back to Somerset Dam nor did I ever see Kim again.

I Should have Bitten My Tongue

I really should have bitten my tongue, but when then is misunderstanding, prejudice or injustice, I am afraid I just can’t help myself.

There I was walking my dogs along a suburban footpath early one Sunday morning when a small dog of mixed designer breed came rushing out of a door, onto the street, towards me and my dogs, barking loudly. Ordinarily, that shouldn’t, or wouldn’t, be a huge concern, as the dog was small, but having been traumatised by a particularly vicious dog attack a few years ago and having not one, but two dogs to protect, one of which was not mine, my anxiety level rose significantly.

Was this approaching dog friendly or aggressive?

Quickly, I realized I couldn’t save both of the dogs should this canine, rapidly hurtling towards me at breakneck speed, suddenly become aggressive, so I had a, ‘Sophie’s Choice,’ moment thinking: Which dog should/could I save?

A horrible thought if there is one.

My level of distress then escalated to panic mode, when I heard a heavy wooden door thud so sharply against the wall, the house it was attached to must have wobbled on its foundations.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

The owner of the small dog, (I assumed), was running out of the house towards me, hysterically screaming and wailing her dog’s name, in full-on adrenaline mode.

Instantly, I was on guard and suspected this dog must indeed be of an aggressive nature, because why else would the owner be SO distressed? Consequently, I reacted by waving one hand madly around in front of my dogs, back and forth, back and forth, in some ridiculously vain effort to stave off a head-on dog attack.

I realise now, I would have looked quite silly as my one flailing arm would have afforded little protection against the jaws of a rabid animal, however small. [Believe me, even aggressive chihuahuas have caused human deaths!] Dogs are able to manoeuvre much faster than one person waving an arm, especially if that one person is trying to hold two dogs on leashes, at the same time.

As I have, unfortunately, experienced before.

Nevertheless, I continued the next-to-useless arm-waving and added in an,”Uh-ah, Uh- ah, keep away,” for good measure. Perhaps it was those words, “keep away,” that incited the crazed owner of the dogs, who by this point was valiantly trying to scoop up her precious pet, while continuing her histrionics.

Naively, I thought an explanation might diffuse her tirade.

“Sorry. My dogs have been attacked previously and I….”

Before I could say another word, a torrent of vehement abuse spewed forth from her mouth, questioning not only my mental state but my actions in triggering her dog! It seems I was responsible for not only her dog running out of the house but most, if not all, the world’s current problems!

Flabbergasted, I retorted that I did nothing wrong and that I was merely trying to protect my dogs as they’d been attacked before, (because sometimes you have to repeat yourself to people who don’t hear the first time😉

The tsunami of name-calling and abuse continued unabated at which point, the husband, or at least a male of some description, in designer pyjamas and coiffured hair appeared at the door, his bare, and overly hirsuit, chest puffed out like Arnold Schwarzenegger in a Mr Universe competition.

“Keep Walking,” he shouted authoritatively at me.

“It’s not …“

“I SAID – KEEP WALKING!” – he commanded more loudly and sternly the second time, like I was some belligerent greenhorn army recruit that needed to be intimidated into submission. His index finger was pointed in the direction he wished me to go.

Now – this is where I should have bitten my tongue and just walked away, ‘as instructed.’

I really should have. But that would appear submissive.

Instead, I heard my own slightly shrill rebuttal of the unjust accusations which involved mutterings about speaking to the local authority regarding unrestrained dogs running loose on the street.

I then heard not one, but two doors slam.

Later, over a cup of herbal tea and soothed nerves, I reflected that I could have/should have handled the situation better and now feel embarrassed enough to avoid that street, in the future.

I really should have bitten my tongue. Shouldn’t I?

Du fanger flere fluer med en dråpe honning, enn ei tønne eddik.
You catch more flies with a drop of honey, than a barrel of vinegar.

Norwegian Saying