We here at Jalopnik love our friends in the animal kingdom, but it seems like they don't always mix well with cars.
Yes, wild turkeys can fly, but none flew as high as the one that Spacegrass hit:
"I used to drive a roll off dumpster truck. One day I crest a hill on a 45 mph road, with a load on the back, only to see some asshole turkey, right in the middle of my lane, a few feet ahead of me. I had no time to brake, and as usual, had a car on my ass.
So I really didn't think those fat birds could fly, but he tried. He made it midway up the windshield of my International when we made contact.
Instead of the inevitable splat, the turkey got a hell of a turbo boost straight up into the air.
Pretty sure it survived, but it's probably never flown that high in its life."
I've heard of hitting a deer while driving, but never a deer running into a parked car. Apparently it's a thing, as kurtbradley can attest:
"To answer the question: I once got hit by a deer in my Civic in high school. No, I didn't hit a deer, I was hit BY THE DAMN DEER. Sitting at a red light next to a field about 5 minutes from my house, this suicidal bastard is running a full sprint out of the field to my right, and decides to pay no attention to the line of cars waiting for a light to turn green.
Smashed the front fender, core support, bumper, and headlight assembly before bouncing back up and taking off. Little fucker caused about two grand in damage. My parents still don't believe me, even though two witnesses waited for the cops and AAA to show up, to confirm the story. So odd."
If you for some reason think cats are normal, read this story by skeffels and come back to me:
"After a 150 mile drive up the interstate I pulled off to use the restroom. As I walked past the nose, a white cat just nonchalantly climbed down out of the driver's wheel arch, looked at me real hard, then stretched and slowly sauntered off.
It must have climbed up, under the hood sometime before I set off, and just sat there until I finally stopped. What gets me is just how utterly unfazed the cat was about the whole thing."
This story from JakeThe SnakeEater is probably why you should get some sort of seat or harness for your dog:
"Our dog is 15 pounds and sits in my lap pretty much any time we're in the car. I'd taken my pickup to get the wife from somewhere and had initially just cracked the window for the dog but for some reason felt compelled to give him a bit more freedom.
I should preface this next part with the fact that he deems it necessary to go nuts any time he hears another dog bark. That tiny little thing wants to make sure everybody knows he's in charge.
So we're driving down a street — probably no more than 20 mph — with the window down and my arm looped under him thinking that would be more than enough to grab him if he makes a break for it. I was wrong.
Not 30 seconds after my wife said — she's always right — that the dog was going to jump out, he did exactly that, my arm raising to try to block him but only succeeding in making him flip on the way out. I slammed on the brakes (it's a quiet street) and I'm not sure who was more freaked out — me, the wife, or the dog.
The dog looked like we'd just caught him pooping in the living room. He knew he was in trouble and was shaking like a leaf. We rode the rest of the way home with the window up... and now he never gets the window-down treatment."
Here's an interesting side-effect to the rust that accumulates on Dodge Aspens. I'd be shocked if Chrysler didn't issue a recall after reading this story by Green Pig:
" Years ago, when we were young and poor(er), my two cousins and I kept a 'spare car' parked in my aunt's driveway, in case one of our DD's broke down and needed extensive repairs.
One of our last spare cars was a rusty white Dodge Aspen with the front clip from a green Plymouth Volare. (Classy, huh?) The slant-six and three-speed manual were bullet-proof, but the rest of the car was very rapidly rusting away around the drivetrain. One of the caveats my cousin Bill told me with I borrowed the car was not to put anything in the trunk, since the floor and rear fenders were so rusted through that you could literally reach into the trunk and touch the right rear tire.
My job at the time was near Philadelphia International Airport, and I lived in Wilmington DE. One night, while driving home, I heard a strange THUMP coming from the back of the car. A few minutes later, I heard it again. The car seemed to be running fine except this occasional thumping noise. Once I got to my exit, I pulled over and got out to examine the rear wheels; my initial thought was that the shock absorber had broken loose.
When I got under the car, I looked up and saw a pair of green eyes staring back at me through the hole in the trunk - someone's cat had decided to seek refuge from the cold and found the rust hole in my trunk. I opened the trunk and suddenly had a frightened but unharmed 6-month old orange tabby clinging to my jacket.
I took the cat home that night and fed her, she slept on a towel under the heater register in my bedroom.
The next morning, I took her back to work, on the front seat next to me, in a borrowed animal carrier. As soon as I opened the carrier, she jumped out, sniffed around a little bit, then made a deliberate bee-line to the front door of a house across the street."
Something fun to do after going out to dinner is to take apart your car to find a bearded dragon you just bought, or at least that's what RazoE did:
"I bought a baby bearded dragon for my wife (then girlfriend). The pet shop was down the street from our favorite Chinese spot. So we buy the little guy and then drive to the Chinese place. The pet shop put him in a little cardboard box with holes so he could breathe, and it's a desert animal so we felt it was okay to leave him in the car (wasn't that hot anyway, maybe 70 degrees?).
So we go, enjoy our meal and come back to the car. I open the passenger door as she was driving, and I see him on top of the box. He looks at me dead in the eye, and SPLITS. He runs behind the dashboard and hides. HOLY CRAP. We had to take apart the center console, drop the glove box, and take the stereo out. Right there in the Chinese restaurant parking lot. But we finally fished the little bastard out, and everything was well. That's how he earned the name 'Houdini.'"
If you ever have to rent a car, go through it with a fine tooth comb lest what happened to DonKeybals happens to you:
"I had gotten into a fire-ant infested rental car. This was about three years ago, when I was doing some work in Alabama. I rented a car, nothing special, as it was just another Charger. I got into the car, and drove off the lot, and started heading to my hotel.
About 5 minutes in, I felt like something bit my ankle. No worries, as we sometimes feel that when we get our leg hair caught by the socks. I reached down and scratched. Then I felt like five bites all happening at the same time.
As I felt around, I knew exactly what happened (I grew up in Georgia, and have stepped in an ant hill a few times as a kid). I pulled over, got out of the car, and quickly brushed off the ants that were on my ankle. By this time, a couple of them had moved up to my right shin.
On the side of the road, I danced like an idiot, shaking my legs, slapping my pant legs, etc. As I looked at the floor board on the driver's seat, there were quite a few ants left. I killed as many as I saw, and hopped back into the car and drove back to get another car. I'm glad I didn't get bit in the process.
They gave me another car, but it wasn't until I fully inspected the interior before I got into it. From that day forward, I always check the interior, especially the floor board and floor mats, before I get into another rental car again."
Suggested By: DonKeybals, Photo Credit: Getty Images
If there's a moral to PeteRR's story, I guess it's that.
"Back in the day I was renting a room from an alcoholic. He was a piney who'd lost his license for 17 years for three DUIs. His SOP was to drive back from bars early in the morning and if he saw a road kill white tail deer, he'd stop and put the carcass in the trunk of his Audi and dress it when he got back to the house.
Anyway, one Saturday morning he asks me and the other roommate if we want to go to the Berlin auction with him. We say sure and we head out in his pickup truck. On the way is a very sharp, blind right-hander that you have to slow way down for. As we're exiting the curve there is a doe standing in the road and we can't stop in time, so the nose of the truck bumps the deer and it falls to the ground.
We get out to look and see that it's just stunned. As we're looking at it, I notice my landlord is rooting around in the bed of the truck. He finds what he's looking for: a tire iron. He's going to beat the deer to death and take it home. The problem is we're in the middle of Marlton, NJ and now more than a few soccer Moms and surburban Dads have stopped to gawk, with their progeny strapped in the back of their various and assorted Lexii.
Luckily before we can even start to dissuade him from murdering Bambi's mom in front of a dozen witnesses, the doe stands up and after a few seconds runs off into the woods."
Lucky, indeed. Both for the deer and the two sane people.
Just don't. Chairman Kaga will tell you:
"My Mom, my brother and I were taking the ferret to the vet for a checkup, and this is very important to remember later - to be de-scented. My brother is holding him in his lap, although we had a little carrier box. It had a little harness and leash of course, but was otherwise climbing up my brother to look around.
Then it bit him. Hard. On the nipple. My brother shrieked and threw the ferret into the front seat. Unleashed.
It proceeded to run around the footwell under my mom's feet. Driver's side. While she's driving. Hissing and backing into the corner by the accelerator. Typical ferret behavior. Except my mom is freaking the hell out, screaming and kicking at this animal that is also freaking the hell out. It tried to attach her feet. And we, the three of us and this perturbed, barely tamed carnivore, are in a 1988 Ford Taurus in traffic. Swerving. Each time my mom would kick at the animal she'd hit either the brake or the accelerator.
Then the ferret did what ferrets do when they're threatened - it released its scent gland. Think 33% skunk, 33% Jersey Shore locker room, 33% swingers party (and maybe 1% birthday cake, weirdly).
My mom finally got the car pulled over and parked, screaming at me to capture the ferret, which is now running all over the car. Which both reek. I managed to grab the leash and haul it, dangling from the harness, back into its box. Still hissing. Still trying to spray. And pooping. Which is apparently also something ferrets do when they get backed into a corner.
Surprisingly, the animal lived to a ripe old age for a ferret, dying about 8 years later from cancer. My mom still holds my dad in serious contempt for that debacle. And the car always stank right up to the day we had it towed away."
This story is not for the faint of heart (or weak of stomach), but it's too crazy to not include. From blacktruck14:
"I was in Iraq in 2007 and our mission was convoy security. This particular mission I was the lead gun truck and we escorting KBR fuel trucks from Al-Taqaddum Airbase in Anbar Province to Camp Victory in Baghdad. My truck was an M1117 Armored Security Vehicle with a mine roller on the front.
About 10 minutes after we left TQ we were just cruising down the road when a dog ran out in front of us, there wasn't much my driver could do to avoid it without risking rolling the ASV over. We hit it dead on with the mine roller.
A couple of minutes later we start smelling the worst smell I have ever smelled in my life. It was a mix between shit and burnt flesh. I just assumed it was a random 3rd world smell that would go away.
It didn't: it got worse to the point where my gunner actually started throwing up. Which caused me and my driver to start throwing up. In between throwing up and trying to watch for IED's, I happened to look at the mine roller and see the dog's tail sticking out of the end of it on my side of the truck. I called a quick halt and got out of the truck to see if there was anything I could do about it.
Somehow one of the wheels on the mine roller kicked the dog's body up into the roller and it's body was stuck in between the wheels and the steel on top of the roller. The friction from the rubber on the wheel was basically cooking the dog's body while simultaneously ripping it apart. I half ass tried to get it out but it was wedged in pretty tight and I really couldn't do anything about it.
The rest of the mission (about 2 hours) we kept throwing up occasionally. Every time the smell would start to go away one of us would catch a good whiff of it and have to open up one of the hatches to throw up, and every time we opened a hatch the smell kept would get back in. I think we each threw up 5-6 times it was horrible. When we got to Baghdad we dumped water all over the truck to get the vomit off.
Then we took the truck to the KBR convoy repair place and told them the mine roller was broken and they needed to take a look at it. When we went back to pick up the truck the civilian in charge yelled and bitched at me that they had to pull half of a dog out of the roller and now there whole work shop smelled like dead dog. I played dumb, and as soon as I signed the paperwork I got out of there with speed.
We all ended up burning the uniforms we were wearing and it took about 3 good scrubs to get the smell out of our gear and the truck. I still feel bad for the dog and the smell of burnt meat still makes me retch."
Welcome back to Answers of the Day - our daily Jalopnik feature where we take the best ten responses from the previous day's Question of the Day and shine it up to show off. It's by you and for you, the Jalopnik readers. Enjoy!
Top Photo Credit: GoPro via YouTube
Contact the author at email@example.com.