Spike vs a Groundhog

A story about a groundhog that crawled into the engine to get warm, with a gruesome ending.

We have a 2001 GMC Jimmy that we have named Spike Spiegel. He is nearly the same colour of the suit that our favourite Space Cowboy wears. He’s a four-door SUV that has been very loyal to us, and oftentimes runs on love instead of the normal things a vehicle needs to run.

The other week began a saga of ultimate struggles with a groundhog that had crawled into the engine one night to get warm.

We were very clueless as to the presence of the creature in our vehicle for several days. The story that follows has been pieced together based on seemingly independent events that eventually coalesced into a grisly battle. You have been warned.

 

This year the weather went abruptly from winter to summer. One week began with snow and ended with +30° Celsius with brilliant blue skies. The snow rapidly melted, plants began to eat up the sunshine and animals came out of the woodwork. Then the weather tried to level out and introduce some spring time with a few nights of hard rain and chilly winds.

The morning after such a night I got into the car as usual to go to work. As I started the car there was a strange THUNK, a slight hesitation with the engine turning over, then everything revved up as normal and off I went. The thunk had sent a slight vibration throughout Spike. I normally park a little ways up the slope in front of my parking spot to keep the vehicle level; sometimes the wheels slide down in the morning and hit the pavement. I hadn’t heard a thunk before, but since everything was now running normally I didn’t spare this noise another thought as I rushed off.

 

That Friday, Rowen and I went to SuperStore to grab a few things before he was going to head back home to Williams Lake. He was excited to be going (as usual) and couldn’t wait to be on the road. Once we loaded everything in, Rowen paused with the door open before hopping in himself. He looked at me funny and said, “Something smells old.”

We both looked around and eyed up a large Dodge pickup parked on Rowen’s side. It was filthy and looked like it just came out of the bush. We don’t see a lot of trucks like that here in Kamloops, and chalked the smell up to the pickup which must have just come back from hunting or something.

With Rowen gone for the weekend, Snewt and I just stayed in for the most part.

I did venture out on Saturday and caught a whiff of a funny smell. It smelled kind of like the pulp mill down the river, and I figured we must have just been downwind.

The Monday was a holiday and Rowen came home that afternoon. I needed to go to Shoppers and he decided to join me. Even once the car was started up, nothing seemed amiss. This changed drastically barely a block from the house when air started moving around from the engine. It being a hot day once more, we had the windows open and going around the first corner we were smacked with an awful stench that can only be described as rotten.

It was undeniable from this point. There must be something dead in the engine. We barely made it Shoppers, Rowen and I gagging the entire way.

After getting what we needed I told Rowen we were going to go to the carwash and I was going to wash out under the hood with some engine cleaner. It smelled like a dead mouse so I was hoping some spray would knock it loose. So I gave the engine a generous drenching with the cleaner and then a quick blast with hot water as per the instructions on the wall.

In my haste, I didn’t give the engine enough time to drain. We pulled out of the carwash and got into the left-turn lane. As we stopped for the light, the engine stopped and refused to start again. I put my head on the steering wheel in despair. Rowen put a comforting hand on my shoulder, not sure what to say to his Mom who was in such a state.

I explained that I didn’t have my phone. It had been dying, and since it was supposed to be a quick trip I had just left it charging. Inspired for a moment, Rowen was sure his phone was still in the back of the car because he had forgotten it earlier. A few moments of hopeful climbing around ensue but it turns out to be a fruitless search.

Not having been without a cell phone for so many years, I am honestly stumped for a few minutes as to what to do. We have now been gone from home for approximately an hour and I’m sure that Snewt must be wondering what is going on. Eventually we carefully climb out, and head towards the nearby gas station, leaving Spike with his hazards on.

The lady is nice and lets us call home from the store phone. We brief Snewt on the goings on, and he starts looking for a ride over to come inspect the car. I thank the lady and we head back to the road to direct traffic as best we can from the sidelines.

It’s nearly full dark by this point so I don’t want to venture out into the road again unless I have to. Rowen and I stand on the hillside and sing songs that we can remember and he tells me about funny times of playing video games or visiting up Williams Lake. A lot of time passes with no sign of anyone we know coming our way. Eventually I tell Rowen that I’m going to try the car. Traffic has picked up once more and I don’t want him out on the road. So I tell him that if Spike starts up I’ll maneuver around to the parking lot.

He agrees and waits tensely as I try the ignition. Spike turns over very sluggishly, but does rev up. With the hazards still on I cross the lanes crookedly waving apologetically to everyone in the intersection. I park, cut the engine and then turn it over again. He starts up fine, whoo hoo! Right about then I see the gas station lady coming across the parking lot. She has the phone and I figure it must be Snewt; there can’t be too many instances where an employee would come all this way with the phone.

I quickly tell him that the car has started again, and he tells me that our friends’ car is out of commission too, and Hoya must be at work. I thank the lady profusely for her help once more and she walks away looking amusedly annoyed.

We get home and tell Snewt about the smell and what we had tried to do. The smell is still there, but it seems a little fainter so we cross our fingers and hope for the best.

The next day as I leave for work, the smell has once again turned into a stench, and it is horrific. I make up my mind to use some of our gas money to go get an undercarriage wash. After work, this is exactly what I do. It is so bad by this point that I have a headache by the time I get to the Robowash which is only down the street. After giving Spike a walk-around perusal, I determine that the smell is definitely in the front and stronger on the driver’s side. I focus as much time as possible with the undercarriage wash where I’m hoping it’ll knock whatever the hell it is loose.

Driving home, once again the smell is more bearable, but it’s still definitely there. I do believe I have just spent a lot of money washing a dead body. The thought is disconcerting because that means that it’s something much bigger than a mouse.

 

Growing up in a rural area we have come across different animals in varying stages of decay. We have fought packrats, mice, squirrels and other things that at times tried to share our homes. Domesticated animals have been run over or shot and had to be removed. We have smelled a variety of animal corpses and fell back to this knowledge to identify this mysterious dead thing in our vehicle.

It had first smelled like a dead mouse, but now smelled rather like a pungent dead cat. Definitely not a packrat because those things smell rotten while alive and worse when dead. Since it hadn’t been jarred loose with all of my washings we figured it must have been a cat.

We don’t know anyone with a ramp around Kamloops so I called around to explain this strange situation to a couple truck shops. While thrown a little off initially, one mechanic said he’d remove it, but for their shop’s hourly flat rate. This was an astronomical amount of $79 plus taxes that we wouldn’t have until the next week.

That night after work Snewt and I decide we’re going to do Something. We have no idea what, but we’re going to do Something. We grab some flashlights and go inspect under the hood, then climb around as best we can in our limited apartment parking lot. Suddenly I spot a patch of fur. The undercarriage wash had moved it forward somewhat and we can see that it’s got brown and black fur. Also, it is enormous. By the size of its belly alone it must have weighed 20 or more pounds when alive.

We have $3 left so we decide to go try the car wash one more time since we’re at a loss otherwise. Now that we know where it is Snewt targets it and manages to move it backwards bit by bit. We gag from the wet smell but try to keep it together. Suddenly the nozzle slips, water hits the fan, turns it and Snewt gets a face full of death water. He drops the wand and goes over to the side of the building to vomit.

I pluck up some courage, grab the wand and go over to see what kind of progress he’s made. The body has definitely moved and I jump back when I see a shiny black eye staring back at me. It looked like the damn thing had moved! It couldn’t still be alive, could it? After mildly hyperventilating for a moment and hoping that Snewt would come back, I am driven forward by my morbid curiousity to look again. Surely, if it were still alive after all that we had done to it, it would have protested earlier.

I am expecting the eye this time as unnerving as it is. I peer as closely as I dare and it still looks as though the thing is squirming. Then I see why. Maggots. Disturbed by the onslaught of water they are surfacing. I go over to the other side of the building to vomit but only dry heave.

Well, it’s definitely dead.

After the initial horror subsides somewhat and I have climbed back into the car and rubbed my arms down with sanitizer, Snewt returns and we head home. I suddenly feel a steely resolve that we are going to get rid of this thing once and for all. Bolstered by my sudden burst of courage Snewt and I call our Dads to tell them more about what’s going on and what can we do about it?

The answer is relatively the same from both of our fathers. We’re going to have to mash it up and pull it out since it seems snagged on the skidplate. We go into the house to see what we can sacrifice. We settle on an older hockey stick, a swiffer handle and a coat hanger and I arm myself with some plastic bags. Rowen stays inside and doesn’t want to know what we’re doing as he’s had nothing to do with the car since Monday.

The hockey stick works very well at mashing up the body. With some bending, the swiffer handle does as well. It becomes clear though that the hanger will be needed to pull the majority of it out since the skidplate is just too long to be able to push it out, and our implements aren’t versatile enough. Snewt bends up the hanger some more and reaches into the engine to begin final extraction. I think he’s doing well at first and then he looks up at me, “I can’t reach it. My arm won’t fit and I need this thing to just be a little longer.”

Suddenly my phone rings and I answer it even though I don’t recognize the number. It’s my cousin and he’s wondering if he can crash on our couch tonight to avoid a party or something. And also can I come pick him up? This barely registers and I try to explain what we’re currently dealing with. I manage to keep a mostly civil tone and say that yes if he can make his way up of course he can stay. But no. No, I cannot come pick him up. I am battling to remove a dead body from my car, yes you heard that right. See you in a bit.

Snewt’s still trying to attack the body from different angles or find a way to rig the hanger and make it longer. I decisively roll up my sleeve and hold out my hand for the hanger. Quickly please, before I come to my senses.

Just the other day I had been bemoaning how skinny my arms are. Well, today they were skinny for a reason. We had already mashed the thing into manageable pieces. A leg had gotten wrapped around the fanbelt; thankfully it hadn’t broken the belt. That steely resolve shot up my spine again and drove my arm into the depths of the engine.

 

The thing was at such a state decomposition that it was hard to get a good piercing in its hide. Probably because of the heat of the last couple of days. I managed to unwrap the leg from the belt and pull a chunk of body out, slowly, so it wouldn’t fall. What came out was a barely held-together strip of fur with a leg. I tossed it onto the little slope behind us and took a moment to dry heave.

The largest opening in the engine was now coated with slime and I could feel it slide up my arm as I reached back into the engine. There was nothing for it now and I was going to see this through to the end. Two more large chunks followed, possibly three. I had reached a state of mind where I was a bit of an automaton. All of my extracting of body parts had moved the head again and its teeth flopped into view.

“It’s a groundhog!” I choke out while trying to grab it. I angle the hanger into its jaw and I can feel it pierce through. I start pulling but this is easily the heaviest and biggest piece. I’m suddenly not sure if the head is going to fit through where my arm has squeezed into. It’s going to have to.

I stare into its little black eyes as I angle the hanger up through the top of its mouth. It feels much more secure this time and I begin to pull up very slowly. It snags about halfways up on the fan and I swear profusely. It doesn’t fall though and Snewt says something encouraging. I give the thing a fierce glare and begin pulling again.

It finally comes all the way out and I throw it beside the rest of itself with a meaty thunk. Snewt and I both heave a little more at the sight of the maggots squirming madly at this disruption.

I turn back to the car and reach in once more. There was one last piece of leg and I still can’t quite reach it. I throw the hanger in exasperation and exclaim, “Fine! Let that be a warning to all your little groundhog friends!”

Snewt seems unsure of what to do as I start bagging up the dead body and throw that as well as the hanger into the dumpster. He abandons the hockey stick beside the recycling bin. I go in to wash my arms. As I enter the apartment I ask Rowen to turn on the bathroom faucet for me but not to touch me. He does this unquestioningly. Snewt washes up as well and then suggests we use the last loonie to go wash the car out one last time. This sounds agreeable.

It must be later than we thought though because the car wash is closed. Driving back Rowen calls and says there’s someone at the door and should he let him in? I draw a total blank for a moment " then I remember with a laugh. Dustin. Yes Rowen, you can let him in.

The smell is finally diminished, thank the heavens. We get home and Rowen stops me at the door. His face is grave and he reminds me of a little mobster when he asks very seriously, “Is it done?” Yes is my reply. He nods once and goes back to his room.

I bring a plastic into the bathroom, strip and place all my filthy clothes on the plastic. I have a quick hot shower and encourage Snewt to do the same. He’s recounting the story to Dustin as part of his way to unwind. We call his parents to let them know the smell has been fixed. It’s much too late to call my parents but I message my sister. Then I read to Rowen and we all make our way to bed.

The next couple of days there was a faint whiff of death from underneath but nothing compared to what it once was. The episode is fading in importance and none of us want to relive it too much. I had pretty much forgotten about that last leg still stuck somewhere in the engine until I went to get an oil change.

I stopped at Mobil1 Express and things started normally as the workers bustled around. A shout rang out from below my car and an exclamation of disgust, “Urrgghh something dead just fell on me!! Ahhhh, hold on I need to go wash my arm!”

The Mobil1 Express crew gave me a strange look and I call out, “I’m sorry! It was a groundhog!”

 

Thus concludes our immense struggle with a groundhog, which shall remain nameless. Since Spike is a sturdy beast of metal and weighing in at over 4,000 pounds, there was never a doubt that he was going to come out on top. It was a hard fought battle to be sure and we all came out of this briefly the worse for wear. It has been dealt with and hopefully, ever so hopefully, we never have to do anything like this again.

Author's Note

This was an horrific time for our little family, but we were still able to find some humour in it. I put this in the horror genre because of the things I seen and had to do. Maybe it doesn't quite fit here, but I had nightmares about this thing for days, haha.
Snewt is my husband and the 'ew' is pronounced with more of an 'ow' sound. It's a Shuswap word that means wind.
I hope you enjoyed reading!