Carrie May Still Have Gotten the Worse Part

[kaasirpent]

[Note: This is cross-posted from Facebook.]

The title refers to Carrie White, Stephen King's protagonist in the book Carrie. There was this scene where they dump a bucket full of pig blood all over her at the prom.

<insert flashback effect here>

Back in December, I was fairly sure I wrote about ZachFest 2009, but I appear to have managed to completely miss writing about it everywhere that I have a blog. I can't believe it.

If you wonder what ZachFest is, read about it here. (If that link doesn't work, lemme know.)

Anyway...

For ZachFest 2009, Brian hosted it, but since his place isn't big enough to contain the sheer size of ZachFest, we moved the venue to a "local" coffee shop called JaMoka's (shameless plug). And the menu included a couple of smoked briskets, various vegetary things, and—the pièce de résistance—a whole, roasted suckling pig. We named him Wilbur. Or Babe. Or maybe Jerome. We called him all three at one point or another.

Brian cooked Wilbur/Babe/Jerome at his place and we transported him from there to JaMoka's in my car.

Things to remember:

• This was December and it was, therefore, at least marginally cold.
• My car—a Honda Element—has a rubber floor.

So Jerome/Babe/Wilbur rode the 20 miles to the restaurant and we took him in and much oohing and aahing were made in his honor. He was mostly consumed. What was left rode back in my car.

Flash forward a month or so to when it's still winter and therefore still cold. I notice an odd substance in the back of my car. Kind of off-white and firm to the touch. I can't even scratch it with a fingernail. It has no detectable odor. I figure it's where something spilled and solidified, and decide to deal with it later. In my mind, I think back over everyone who has ridden in the car from Zach to Brian, but can't imagine anyone spilling anything and not telling me.

Flash forward another month or two. I hit a stupid dog on April 11th on my way home from my mother's house in Eutaw. In the back of my car are an antique dresser that belonged to Nanny, a couple of quilts she made, a bunch of my stuff, and that white substance, still solid. The car is undrivable, so I have to leave it there and rent a car to get home.

Flash forward another month to when I go to pick up my car from Sunny King Ford in Anniston, Alabama. It is no longer winter and therefore no longer cold. It is, in point of fact, quite un-cold. What some call "hot." I climb into my car and notice...an aroma. Reminiscent of hot motor oil. I can't figure out what it is, but it seems to fill the car. I get out of the car at the first opportunity I have (which is when I was filling the tank with gas) and do a thorough search. I cannot find anything that would be causing the smell. I conclude that it is a residual odor from some aspect of the huge amount of body and engine work they have had to do to get the car back to me in a usable form. I notice dimly that the white substance is now gone from the back of the car. I think maybe the guys at the dealership cleaned whatever it was up.

Flash forward another month, to last Friday, in fact. I drop the car off at my local Honda dealer (where I bought it) to have them fix the last thing that was missed by the place in Anniston. I have to leave the car with them for another week while they get the insurance company to cough up the money. Finally, I get my car back.

Only now, the smell is even worse. I posted about it on Facebook, asking people if I should be concerned.

And then, last night, the whole thing dawned on me. I went out with some paper towels and started wiping down the floor in the back and under the driver's seat.

That white substance in the back of my car in December through April? Solidified pig fat. Babe/Wilbur/Jerome...leaked. And it ran off his platter and onto my rubber floors, which we did not notice.

As soon as the weather heated up, that solid fat melted. And ran from the back floor to under the drivers seat. Where it had then baked in the hot spring sun for a month in Anniston. And then baked again in the even hotter late-spring sun in Duluth.

Turning more rancid and nastier with every minute, I'm sure.

So, this morning, I took the car to the auto detailers that are here every Friday morning in the parking lot where I work, showed them the pig fat, and explained the problem.

They said, "No problem. We'll fix it."

And now I have a Klean Karz (that's the name of the company that does the detailing in our parking lot), sans any last traces of Jerome/Babe/Wilbur. And it smells all nice and fresh. And the guys who did my car got a $10 bonus for de-Wilbur/Jerome/Babe-ifying my car.

There may still be some residual 'motor oil' odor, but I'm going to go out on a limb and bet that Jerome/Wilbur/Babe was the root cause of all my olfactory woes.

Stupid pig.

Comments

[peteyfrogboy.livejournal.com]

I wish I'd had a rubber floor when the gallon of soy sauce tipped over in the (carpeted) back of the minivan. That thing smelled like a Chinese restaurant every summer for years.

[kaasirpent]

I had the same thing happen in my old Jeep with corned beef and cabbage.

And then I had to park my car for several days in the parking deck at the Atlanta airport.

In the summer.

Whee-DOGGIE, what a stench when I came back.