P U

Last night I hit a skunk. A skunk on the small little exit ramp connecting 394 westbound to 494 northbound. A skunk just standing in middle of the exit ramp with a suicide wish. Due to construction, the ramp was much smaller than normal with concrete walls on each side of me. No choice other than to hit the skunk or to total my car and probably kill myself. It was terrible. I hit the skunk going at a speed of about 50 miles per hour; there was no chance of survival for the skunk. I remember seeing the skunk briefly, then feeling a thud, and then literally seeing pieces of the skunk sail through the air in the headlights of the car behind me. I am sure that the car behind me was covered in skunk. There was no way in could not have been.

I started to cry. Yes, ridiculous…I know. But, it is the truth. I did. I felt terrible. This is the first thing that I have hit that has resulted in death. Not the first thing I have hit, mind you, that was a puppy the night before Thanksgiving a few years back…but the puppy lived. That was one of the most surreal nights of my life, which will be the subject of another post at some point…but now we are giving the skunk his own moment of remembrance.

I continue driving back to my apartment, as I am trying to see the road through my tear stained glasses a stench fills the car. I have never in my life smelled anything so vile and rotten as I did last night. “Gross” is the only word that can describe it, and yet comes up short.

As I continue driving, straining to see the road through my tear stained glasses, I now have to roll down the window to get fresh air because I am trying not to vomit.

Last night was the longest ride home I have ever had. Too much drama for 3 miles.

The car still stinks today.

I hate skunks.

Ish.