Got Milk?

I will admit that Mark is no longer the worst driver I have ever ridden with. When I first met him I was terrified and irritated at the same time when he was driving. But now he is no longer a completely timid, inexperienced, illogical, driver that is a danger to every other person on the road. My eighteen years of nagging and instructing him have improved his driving skills to the point of near competence. He still cannot parallel park, nor can he find his way even with a GPS. He mis-judges just how wide our car is, and cannot figure out how close others are to him. One thing that he still can't do is drive smoothly, meaning he accelerates too fast and turns corners with a herky-jerky motion. Every single time we go to get chlorine for the swimming pool I have to remind him that taking those corners at high speed will spell doom if those jugs in the back spill. So I was not too surprised when Mark came home from the super market the other day with the groceries scattered across the back of the PT Cruiser. What was disturbing, was when I opened the tailgate and a gallon of milk came tumbling out while squirting a stream of white in a spiral as it hit the driveway. Down in the well under the little shelf, in the back of the PT Cruiser, was a puddle of milk. It filled every low lying spot and was dribbling down into the latch beneath the floor. I quickly began blotting up what I could, but it drained down into the latch where it couldn't be reached without dismantling the car.

That was two days ago. Yesterday afternoon I opened the car door to retrieve something that I had left in there. A gagging, putrid odor wafted out of the door. We were making cheese in the back of the PT Cruiser and there was nothing I could do about it. This morning I again checked on the car. I gingerly opened the door and stood back. There was a definite odor, but not the smell of spoiled milk I was expecting. Instead, it was a sort of cloying smell, like cheap perfume on a ten dollar hooker who had taken a bath with camembert cheese. To offset the smell of the souring milk in the back of the car, Mark had poured a bottle of Fabreze down the tailgate latch. Such a sweet ride.