Skunk!

Got home from teaching class last night, still driving The Truck, and was congratulating myself on having driven the great big beastie all over three counties, in and out of numerous parking lots (which required backing up, never my strong suit) and to several evening commitments with Phoenix, all involving the Iowa City I-380/I-80 interchange at rush hour, without any dents, dings, additional deer bashing, spilled cappuccino or Malinois-gnawed interior furnishings.

Then I pulled into our lane and there sat . . . a skunk.

Seriously. It was just sitting there. Looking around. Being cute in a way only skunks can.

I threw out an arm to hold Phoenix and slammed on the brakes.

I was NOT hitting a skunk in our own lane with The Truck.

The skunk looked at me.

I looked at it. I told it it had the right of way.

It got up and began to run.

This was hysterical. Wish I'd had my video camera. Have you ever seen a skunk run? They usually don't. I mean really, who would chase a skunk?

It got out of the lane. Good.

Now it was running toward the house. Bad.

Phoenix did not see it. Good.

If I kept driving this slowly, he would. Bad.

Now the skunk was galloping along, parallel with the lane. I followed in The Truck. Going very slowly. And quietly. I'm not big on passing on the right, especially when the pass-ee is a skunk. I glanced at my watch. At this rate, it would be after midnight before we got home.

Straight ahead, I could see the open door of the machine shed. How sweet, the Farmer had left it open for me.

The skunk was headed right for it.

What's worse than a skunk running up the lane?

A skunk running into the machine shed. Let's not go there. We did the "skunk in the machine shed" thing back in 1998. That's another story.

But it didn't go in.

It made a hard left and disappeared out of headlight range into the field. I punched the accelerator, zipped into the machine shed and hit the button for the overhead door before it could change its mind. Phoenix was oblivious, for once.

The Farmer took possession of The Truck again this morning and gave me a ride to work. C3PO is supposed to be finished at the body shop this afternoon. Poor Farmer. He got into The Truck, started it, looked at me and said, "What have you done?"

Um . . . the driver's seat was moved up, the mirrors were adjusted, the radio was on an oldies rock station, the air vents were pushed in a different direction, the armrest was shoved up to give Phoenix more room on the seat and I'd turned the passenger side airbag off.

Sorry, I said. Meant to change that all back. I got the hairy eyeball. He loves me. Really.

At least I didn't hit a skunk.