integra versus black demon 5 june, 1997 by johnmichael patrick monty monteith

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. Temperature in the mid seventies without a cloud in the sky. The type of afternoon which any self respecting Integra owner would get out and drive in, regardless of whether they had anywhere to go. However, today, I did have somewhere to go.

I was making the long haul from Ashland, Oregon to Seattle, Washington on Interstate 5. I had the sunroof fully open, enjoying the afternoon breeze. We were traveling at speeds well above the posted speed limit without a vehicle in site. Life was good.

We were somewhere near Rice Hill, an hour and a half through our journey, when he spotted me. In retrospect, I suppose I would have been tough to miss. A new recently waxed black Integra speeding along a major highway without another vehicle in sight. It could not have been easier.

My co-pilot and I still debate about what exactly it was that we battled that beautiful afternoon, but I will give you my perspective. About a mile ahead of us was what I can only describe as a flying black demon with the devil in his eye. I knew we were in trouble immediately. A crow, much like in the Civic commercial, except this one seemed to be closer to Satan than to feathered friend. There was no question he had us in his sights.

My record through my driving career was flawless. I knew exactly what to do. The situation called for immediate evasive maneuvers. I had only two plans in this situation. Plan A called for slowing down. Plan B called for speeding up. We were already driving 85. However, I have never used Plan A. So, as if slightly possessed myself, the shifter switched to fourth.

The demon obviously had encountered Plan B in the past, taking only a moments pause to determine the appropriate reaction. He changed direction to compensate, laying in a perfect intercept course with the Integra. Obviously this devil was upset that my vehicle was of a prettier black and felt like altering the situation.

My foot sunk deeper on the gas pedal while my co-pilot and I braced for near certain impact. There was no turning back.

The demon dropped a single torpedo in our direction. Although I thought he had completely missed the target, the torpedo changed direction as if being controlled by black Acura direction finding equipment on-board. Or, perhaps it was just the wind. Either way, the demon had himself a story to tell generations of other demons about.

It was a direct hit. I felt a little touch the side of my head, and proceeded to combat the situation with the only remaining action - showing the bird a bird of my own.

My co-pilot assessed the damage to the bridge. She found nothing in my hair, traces on the back of my seat, and some evidence on the roof directly in front of the sunroof opening. We felt lucky. In her words "it could have been much worse". We quickly repaired what we found, and slowed down to the pre-demon speed limit.

Unfortunately, it was worse. A minute or so later it occurred to me that we had not discovered where the actual bulk of the torpedo landed. After all, a torpedo with direction finding equipment is larger than the evidence we noted. It was at this point that the damage reports started to roll in from all over the ship. On the inside of the back windshield, right above the third brake light was the torpedo. A perfect shot. You almost have to respect the precision of his work.

This sort of damage could not be repaired in transit, so we cleaned up the situation at the next petrol base. The damage was so severe that part of the torpedo is still lodged between the windshield and third brake light. However we cleaned up what we could, and continued our journey to Seattle.

My perfect battle record has been shattered, and my Integra spoiled by the likes of a single black crow on a mission from Satan.

There is a moral to this story: When encountered by a black demon in the sky on a beautiful afternoon, do not concern yourself too much by whether to use Plan A or Plan B. Instead - just remember to close the damn sunroof.

The end.