I don't know what's just brought this to the forefront of my mind. This is equally a contender for Things You Should Not Laugh At, but it's kind of not very nice. Here goes -
Over the last few weeks there's been a not-inconsiderable amount of roadkill on my route to work. I generally take a country road to work so it's not entirely unexpected but there seems to have been more than usual recently; lots of rabbits and squirrels, but also the odd pheasant and a couple of foxes and badgers.
I'm carpooling with a co-worker (who I will call Lee) one morning when the car in front of us hits something in the middle of the road that may have once been a squirrel. I see it fly out from under the back wheel, sail gracefully through the air in a beautiful arc, and land with a very wet thud on the bonnet. Lee shrieks like a banshee; I'm laughing, partly at Lee, mostly because the remains of maybe-squirrel is now making a stately journey from the centre of the bonnet towards the windscreen. Lee manages to pull over just as maybe-squirrel settles itself comfortably in the gap between the edge of the bonnet and the windscreen.
I can't breathe I'm laughing so hard - a combination of the bizarreness of watching an ex-squirrel come flying at us as though shot from a catapult, shock, and Lee's continuing wails of horror. (I know, I'm a horrible friend, but watching and listening to a burly, bearded man scream like a little girl who just had her ice cream stolen is really, really funny.)
Lee tries to shift ex-squirrel by flicking on the wipers. All this does is smear ex-squirrel across the windscreen. I'm about to die laughing, Lee is practically sobbing at me to shut up and do something useful. I suggest trying the washers. This removes some of the, er, smears, but there's still a fair few... lumps... of ex-squirrel clinging to various bits of the car.
Eventually, I manage to get myself under control enough to take pity on Lee, and volunteer to try and remove enough of ex-squirrel that we won't be shedding bits as we drive down the road. Also, it's blocking the air vents, and Lee looked like he was going to puke when I suggested moving ex-squirrel. I roll up my sleeves, we sacrifice a bottle of water and the ice scraper, and I get out of the car. It stinks
. I'm really, really glad it was early in the morning and not any hotter, because it smelled just indescribably awful; I can only imagine the effect of a few hours of sunlight might have had on that particular aroma.
Between the water and the scraper, I manage to flick the... bits... off the car (there were several pieces by this point, and they were all pretty much unidentifiable) and into the grass verge on the side of the layby, and wash the gunk off the bonnet. The worst bit was trying to dig out what I think may have once a been a leg from under the lip of the bonnet. (It crunched.)
Lee uses up pretty much all of his washer fluid, which dislodges a couple more little bits - unfortunately we had nothing we were willing to sacrifice to wipe the wiper blades with - but eventually the windscreen at least is pretty clean. Lee wants to leave the scraper on the side of the road, but agrees to just chucking it away at work if I wash it - and makes me hold it all the way there, in case any gunk gets transferred to his car.
Amazingly we aren't actually late for work, but our boss wants to frame the ice scraper when she hears about our early-morning gross-out adventure, I practically boil my hands, and Lee still hasn't quite lived it down that a girl had to clean his car of ex-squirrel bits for him.