We're the Mousecarteers, We Want to Say Hello

It turns out that harmless, little Legacy is a MouseCarTeer Hybrid. I drove the 40 miles down to see my parents in Oregon, at 70 mph mind you (just kidding all you state troopers, I was doing the exact speed limit, never faster), and as I careened into the lot of the senior living complex, a mouse compelled herself out of the engine compartment onto the windscreen by the windshield wipers. I screamed, slammed into a parking space and ripped open my phone.

"Mom, there's a mouse in front of me. On my car, right in front of my eyes." At that, the mouse scurried along the glass, scrambled onto the hood and checked out her new surroundings. I laid on the horn and prayed most of the residents were hard of hearing. The mouse scrambled back up the hood and dropped into the trough where the wipers hide. I threw down the phone, pressed back against my seat and flipped on the windshield wipers. The mouse simply stared at them before her gaze penetrated the window and met mine.

"Eeeeeeek," I said and honked again. The creature dove down between the windshield and the hood and disappeared into the engine compartment again.

Mouse Trail

I called Subaru today. "Yeah, I have to bring my car in for the first oil change, could I bring it in today. Right now?"

"No, you'd have to make an appointment."

"What kind of service will you be doing? Will you be changing the oil, and maybe glancing around

the engine compartment for anything out of the ordinary?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, like, would they look for, say, things that don't really belong in the engine compartment?"

His voice sounded suspicious now. "What kind of things?"

When I told him, he said mice love cars of all makes and models (I think they just love whatever car I drive), but that I needed to evict it before it causes the car to overheat.

Evicting it with intimidating back-up sounded good to me, so I opened the door to the engineering department. "Gentlemen, are you ready?"

"For what?" several voices called out from the cubical labyrinth.

"Just grab a pair of gloves and come out front," I said.

It was just my luck that Nelson drives a Jeep and Kyle hadn't a clue what he had volunteered to do. No one knew how to open the hood. First I opened the trunk, then I pulled the fuse box cover off. After consulting the owner's manual, the hood finally popped open. Backing away from the car, I asked the two men to check for mice and mice condominiums. They backed away too.

I glared.

They moved back to the car and stared under the hood, looking for movement. Kyle found the nest and yanked it out, but there was no sign of Minnie. I figure she was off at the hospital having sextuplets. So now it is just a matter of time before she reappears, with relatives.

My gas mileage didn't seem as good on the drive home.

Mouse Nest