I’ve lamented about the road trip fart. The terrifying, suffocating gas chamber a car becomes when someone rips. It’s inevitable, and I am still holding out hope for the butt mints I quasi-invented.
But, now I’m worried about general funk. Foot funk, which can be truncated into actual appendage funk, sock funk and shoe funk. Pit funk. Dirty hair funk and “I forgot about that half-eaten ham sandwich” funk and wet dog funk – it’s somehow possible to infect the car with that smell even in the absence of actual wet dogs.
I would know. As I utter the word “What?” about 100 times a day, my sense of smell has picked up the slack. I’m like a bloodhound, which has its pros and its cons.
Cue Auto Zone and its at-first disappointing (“There’s only colada and new car??”) and then quickly mind-boggling air freshener section, as Ron looked for a fuel filter. Holy abyss of ambiguous and testosterone-charged scent descriptors, Batman.
What the shit is Black Ice? How does that smell? And, are we supposed to know? I think so. Because there was no scratchy-sniffy thing. We’re just supposed to trust that description? I only know black ice as a terrifying byproduct of shitty/psychotic Michigan weather that every bridge warns of year round – even though summer is the only real safe season.
Also, shimmer? What does that smell like? Something good, I think? Girly, maybe? I actually don’t know what tiny sparkles or unicorns smell like. I could go dark and pass a wild assumption that dudes who go to strip clubs know what that smells like – but I’d assume in that case it would mix together a little sweat, like a coconut-infused lotion and some baby oil? Don’t really know.
Again, no scratchy-sniffy thing. So we’re left to wonder. And that leaves me in a bad spot, clearly.
It also leaves me with dwindling options. Ones like “Titanium Rain,” which sounds really dangerous and bad for your windshield. I also don’t know if I want my car to smell like metal. I never like it when my hands smell that way after, like, running monkey bars.
Oh, but there’s “Lighting Bolt.” What the actual hell does that smell like? Fire? Childhood bad dreams? A house burning down? Burnt hair? A brush fire? None of that sounds good. At all.
But wait – there’s “Rainbow Kiss.” That probably smells like grapes. But not real grapes, the grape flavor. Like a popsicle, because grape flavor anything never smells like real grapes – which is always so weird. Do grapes not have a natural smell? Do they not measure up? How demoralizing for them that they have to have a stand-in scent because their real scent isn’t fragrant enough. I can’t support that type of oppression.
So…my eyes wandered away from “Midnight Storm,” because I feel like I have to be a meathead to have that in my car, and fixate on the dog tags WHICH ARE SCENTED. I never knew that. The things that hang from people’s mirrors? Scented. Or some of them are, anyway.
Even the rosary is scented. Did you even know that? I’ve seen a million rosaries on rearview mirrors and NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS WOULD HAVE THOUGHT THEY WERE SCENTED.
Guess how? Moonlit Grove, that’s how. Whatever that means. Seems graveyard-y to me, but I’m not Catholic so I wouldn’t know. Maybe it smells like holy water – if that has a smell?
In the end, I just stuck with funk. Because I know what that smells like. And I couldn’t figure out what the heck I’d be getting into with any of those other douche-y smells. Hoping we’re good, and if not, we’ll just grab a scented “Ace of Spades” on the road, because that’s a thing. And I think it would make us feel lucky.