The absolute worst part of this story is not the smell.  The worst part of this story, if you ask me, is the fact that it’s the SECOND time it has happened.  The second.  The first wasn’t even that long ago; some of you were probably already reading North Dakota Nice and remember it.  In my defense – and, really, there’s no excuse for it any other way – I’m very short and can’t see down into the back of things.  Also, when I get home from grocery shopping/work/existing in the universe, someone is usually in distress and needs attention and that someone almost always has zero physical relativity to my car, meaning I don’t have any reason to go back out to the garage and confirm all potential opportunities for problematic smells have been mitigated.

Speaking of the grocery store – a few weeks ago, I went to it.  I actually went to four grocery stores because that’s how I like to aggravate myself these days (“Gotta get one thing from here, and everyone likes this other thing from there, and the strawberries are the cheaper at this other place, and crap, I forgot something so better swing off.”).  It’s important to note that I drive a three-row Honda Pilot, meaning that when I put my groceries in the trunk I’m actually putting them on the third row of seats, which have been folded down.  Somewhere along the line I got a tote thing that sits in the back of the vehicle to keep my groceries from rolling around the non-flat folded-down seats through my 900 stops.  That tote has historically been helpful for holding my reusable grocery bags, one gallon of milk, and a cantaloupe. 

(“Maybe you should get a few more totes to fit your grocery needs?”  You may be wondering.  No.)

When I got home, Kyle and the boys (mostly Kyle) brought in the groceries while I dealt with the current situation of distress.  In addition to making dinner that night, I was also making a couple of meals to take to our friends’ lake cabin that coming weekend.  I got all of that finished and cleaned up, and then went to get prepped for the next day’s activities – specifically, confirming the chicken we were having for tomorrow’s dinner was in the fridge and not the freezer.

“What happened to the chicken breasts?”  I asked Kyle, rummaging through the fridge.

“Probably the deep freeze,” he said, focused more on re-stringing (or whatever) a fishing rod than on the location of a package of poultry.

I went out to the deep freeze.  There, on top, was a package of chicken thighs.

“Huh, I guess I bought chicken thighs,” I thought.

Three days later, on Wednesday, Nine remarked,

“Your car smells weird.”

“My car always smells weird,” I said, gesturing to humans in the back seat and the hockey equipment in the trunk. 

It DID smell weird, though, so when we got to wherever we were going, I dug around the second row of seats and pulled out two aging chicken nuggets.  In addition to the nuggets, I found the opportunity to lecture my children on leaving food in the back seat.

The car smelled weirder the next morning, and the day after that.  Each day I’d find new crap to throw away in the back row.

On Friday, we took Kyle’s truck to the lake.

The following Monday, now back in Grand Forks, Twelve attended an event at a gym across town.  As that event included a number of our neighborhood children, I offered to shuttle said children home.

While I was unpacking the weekend gear, Kyle went out to my car to look for a sandal whose partner had made its way to the lake unpaired.  He returned ten minutes later.

“Well, no sandal,” he said.  “But I did find those chicken breasts you were looking for last weekend.”

“What chicken…” I asked, and then stopped.  “Did they explode?”

“They did not,” Kyle said.  “But just about.  I’m airing out your car now.”

“I have to pick up the kids in an hour,” I said.  “And your truck isn’t big enough.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kyle lied.

Before I left, I doused the car in Lysol and drove to the gym with the windows down.  Seven sweaty pre-teens came tumbling out the doors and piled into the car.

“OH MY GOSH, YOUR CAR STINKS,” they shouted, almost in tandem.

“That’s you guys,” I lied.  “You stink.”

“Blarrr,” one of them gagged, and I wondered if the smell of puke would counteract or enhance the smell of chicken.

We drove back across town.  The two boys closest to the windows leaned their heads out like dogs.  The rest pulled their shirts up over their noses.  The first kid had the door opened before I turned onto his street.

“You can let me off here,” he yelled through his t-shirt.

The gagger continued to gag until I pulled into his driveway.

“You made it, buddy,” I said.

“Blarrr,” he gagged, one more time.

A few weeks and a few boxes of deodorizer later, and I am confident in saying that the smell is now mitigated enough to get the car detailed.  I have not been asked to do any carpooling of late.  I’d like to say I’ve learned my lesson – but based on past experiences, time, and poultry, will tell.

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The photo above was taken in Kyle’s car and is of a lunchtime date at The Kegs in Grand Forks. The Kegs is a Grand Forks drive-in institution. It opens and closes for the season at random. The hours are a crap shoot. The whole place looks like it belongs in a post-apocalyptic scene from a movie. But I tell you what: The Kegs serves the best sloppy joes and cherry lime Cokes you’ve ever had – and so the days when it is open, it’s always PACKED.

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This week on North Dakota Today we talked about Roger Eikom, my Nice Person of the Week, and Fishing Has No Boundaries.  Enjoy! (Valley News Live)

I posted about a few more cool goings-on around the region this week: Movies in a Park, Arts for Vets, and Miss North Dakota.  Click the underlined words in the last sentence to read more – and keep sending your events to me, friends! (North Dakota Nice)

There were three stories this week that made their way across the world, and this is one of them: Grand Forks’/Park River’s Peter Meberg found his brother’s FFA jacket walking around a train station in Tokyo. (Grand Forks Herald)

Here’s the second story: Liam Fisher, Jessin Fisher, and Kaiden Madsen found a tyrannosaurus rex fossil while on a hike in the North Dakota badlands. (People)

And here’s the last worldwide sensation: Mandan’s Tyler Hughes pulled in a record-breaking paddle fish. (KFYR TV)

Man, people DO NOT mess around with Wishek Sausage. (Minot Voice)

Bismarck’s Ross Bendewald is mowing lawns to help out families who need assistance paying for school lunches. (KX Net)

Grand Forks’ James Hood recently graduated high school at the age of 15. (Valley News Live)

Also in Grand Forks, Allee Mead took her spin at the Jeopardy wheel last week. (Grand Forks Herald)

Horace is quickly growing from small rural town to giant bustling metropolis. (Fargo Forum)

Speaking of small rural towns, did you know there is a non-profit that works to reinvigorate small towns in North Dakota?  And did you know that non-profit is partially responsible for bringing baked goods back to Oakes? (Fargo Forum)

Kyle and his friends, Corey and Kelly, have a podcast called North Dakota After Dark where they talk about youth hockey in North Dakota.  The latest episode is up and is an interview with Jason Marshall.  Check it out. Bonus: you can watch it on YouTube. (North Dakota After Dark)

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