Photo by Dan Dzurisin. Used under Creative Commons license.

I’m not entirely sure what happened. I wasn’t there, and there are fewer things I’m more grateful for than that. Maybe my car, parked on the side of the street, looked at her funny. Maybe a dog scared her. Maybe she just doesn’t like Japanese imports. Whatever it was, one seriously malodorous skunk sprayed the ever-loving crap out of my car’s undercarriage. She hosed it down with enough stink-um to stave off a mountain lion.

I didn’t know this right away, of course. I walked out to my car full of innocence and butterflies, opened the door, got in and HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. I looked all around me because surely, surely stink that bad must be actively coming out of the animal which had climbed into the car with me and had buckled itself into the passenger seat.

Alas, no. I was alone. Alone with my stink. Alone with enough stink that two things were immediately clear:

1. I could never give anyone a ride in my car ever again.

2. If I went more than 5 miles, my clothes would absorb the smell, and I would lose both my job and my friends.

And here’s the thing, there is absolutely nothing you can do about this. Nothing. Take it to the car wash. Go ahead. No effect. None. ‘Cause that stink-um is way up in there. It’s coating all the engine parts and getting stronger and stronger the warmer they get. Oh yes. You’re cooking skunk now.

This will go on for at least a week. You might turn to your husband in desperation. The man who is supposed to be able to fix anything. Anything. It was in the marriage contract. And he will look at you and laugh because it’s not his car. Of course, you are now plotting ways to make it his car in the future.

This will go on so long it will occur to you that perhaps you weren’t just sprayed by a skunk. Perhaps the skunk climbed up in there like cats sometimes do. It’s living under your hood, squirting at regular intervals, sometimes directly into your ventilation system. (Good times.)

Little tip. Don’t mention this possibility to your husband. He’ll just laugh harder.

And yes, I am actively coming up with revenge scenarios.