I walked downstairs last night and immediately noticed a pungent, musky odor. It was something like cologne mingled with air freshener and rotting fruit. Just as I opened my mouth to accuse my roommate, he said, "Can you smell that skunk?"
My eyes widened, I lost my accusatory look, I said sheepishly, "Oh ... I think I know what that is."
The night before I nearly ran over a skunk. On my way home from work in the late evening, this furry thing scurried across the road, and I laid on the brakes. The violent deceleration pitched me forward enough that I could see the telltale white stripe of a skunk as it disappeared under the far right side of my hood. I waited for the terrible thunk that was sure to follow. But, there was no thunk. By this time, I had slowed to about 10 miles an hour, and that's when I figure he exacted his revenge over the right side of my Accord.
Oddly enough, I can't really smell it inside the cabin of the car, but when I parked the car inside a sweltering and humid garage, the odor came alive and invaded the basement.
Note to self: if you hit a skunk, or almost hit a skunk, don't park in the garage.