One dark (and possibly rainy) night, my father was driving his old Plymouth car, heading back from Wisconsin to Chicago, when all of a sudden he heard and felt a collision in the middle of the road. Unable (and unwilling) to stop, he continued his journey for another 2 or 3 hours and eventually made it home without anymore mishaps. It was only when he got home and got out of his car that he realised what had happened.
There was a terrible smell, a rotten stench, emanating from his vehicle.
He had driven over a skunk.
It took him a number of days to wash and scrub the car in order to get rid of the smell.
Naturally, he told the story much better than me...
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