Two weeks ago, completely out of the blue, the fan in our car began to make a terrible noise. It was one part rattle and two parts buzz. It was noticeable on a low setting and got progressively worse with each setting until it sounded as if the car might explode when turned on high. It was most unpleasant. Because of the noise, we only used the lowest fan setting, even on cold mornings.
A few days later, as I drove the kids to school with the heat on low, I noticed an unpleasant smell. It seemed to be coming from the vents, so we turned the heat off. A few more days passed and we began to smell the unpleasant odor even if the fan wasn't on. As we shivered in the car one cold morning, I nervously turned on the heat. The smell that almost instantly permeated the car was ghastly.
Veronica and I began gagging. Despite the cold, we turned off the heat and rolled down the windows. Veronica leaned outside the window, gulping in cold, fresh air. I drove back home, my teeth chattering, the window still down.
From somewhere in my past, I recognized the smell. It was the smell of death and decay. I can't put my finger on the time or place that caused this recognition, but I knew what it was. I now had to psych myself out to get in the car. Something had to be done.
Today I took the car to the mechanic. He listened to the fan, took a whiff, and agreed that it needed attention. Three hours, a new fan and $266.00 later, the car is recovering. A mouse had somehow made it into the fan and had died a violent and bloody death when we had turned on the fan. The clean-up was disgusting.
I'm hoping any rodent looking for a warm place to hide will look elsewhere. I can't afford another rodent funeral.