If there’s one thing we know about things inside containers, it’s how they can end up outside their containers in a particularly aggravating fashion. When this happens inside a car, some not-so-funny stuff can happen, from big detailing bills to mechanical damage to irreversible psychological harm. Today on Autopian Asks, we’re talking about the worst stuff you’ve spilled inside a car.
If you’ve been following my ramblings for a while, you’ll know that I’m particular about my cars. I don’t let anyone eat in them or drink anything other than water in them, which means I don’t have many spill stories. However, this doesn’t mean I’ve always been a clean freak, but rather that I’ve learned from my mistakes the hard way.
If you ask a mechanically-savvy car enthusiast what the most pungent thing is inside any car, they’d probably say gear oil. This heavy, sulphur-enriched lubricant serves up a Desert Storm-tier nasal assault, and it’s one fluid you definitely don’t want to spill inside your car. Well, back in secondary school, I had to run my old diff oil to the proper recycling facility, which means two bottles ended up in my Crown Victoria. You can probably guess where this is going.
If you’ve never been inside the trunk of a Crown Victoria, it’s roughly the size of the Sydney Opera House. Commodious enough for three or four former associates, it’s not an environment conducive to holding one-liter plastic bottles soundly in place. In my head, the rear footwell’s rubber mat seemed to be a more appropriate place for temporary gear oil bottle transport, but I failed to account for one thing — cheap one-liter plastic bottles have a habit of leaking, particularly when they’re re-used to transport used fluid. Naturally, you can imagine my face when, while driving along, I was smacked across the face with a smell best described as that of robot excrement. Yep, I ended up with gear oil spilled all over the carpets of my Crown Victoria. Well, at least the air-con didn’t work, so the incoming summer would be windows-down.
Another category of fluid that’s not good to spill in a car is anything that goes bad with time. Say, milk, for example. I want to apologize in advance to my parents for sharing this story, and make it abundantly clear that this wasn’t their fault, but simply something that happened to them. I remember years ago, arriving home, only to find that a gallon of milk had leaked, drenching the trunk carpet of their then-late-model Hyundai Sonata. Needless to say, work happened quickly, pulling the carpet and sopping up any residual milk pooling in the trunk floor with paper towels. However, that trunk carpet stayed out of the car for a very long time. Not good, people. Not good.
So, what’s the worst thing you’ve spilled inside a car? Did inducing motion sickness in a passenger by telling them to “watch this” result in a tsunami of vomit sloshing around your all-weather floor liner? Did an evasive maneuver decant your coffee directly into your electronic shifter, requiring some serious repair work? Did you have a glitter incident? Whatever the case is, we’d love to hear it in the comments below.
[Ed note: Wanna read more about Thomas’ Crown Vic? You just passed the link! – Pete]
(Photo credits: Thomas Hundal)
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Seattle seafood vomit as a child in the back seat of my dad’s VW Beetle, in the middle of a snowstorm in the Cascades in the middle of the night, on our way home to Grand Coulee. It was years before the smell fully disappeared.
Earlier this year I bought oil change supplies for my 07 Elantra, Lola, which included a gallon jug of oil. Put it in the trunk for a few days, then discovered that about half of it had leaked out onto the trunk mat. It soaked through and drenched the spare tire and the black foam organizer for the jack, lug wrench, etc.
Cleaned up the spare and tools, but the mat was a total loss. Picked up another one but I’m still finding oily spots on the spare and in the spare tire well. I did get a free replacement jug of oil though.
Out of college, I managed a small shop that specialized in local organic meats, produce, & catering, and I had a charming 2000 W210. The meat was delivered almost daily by the processing facility, but sometimes I would run there to pick up something that was forgotten, or if I just had a super small order. Well, during the hot Kentucky summer, a smell presented itself.
A rancid, rotting, demonic smell.
And it got worse, and worse. I searched all over my car (in my mind, it was a thorough investigation, but I am easily distracted), but it took me a couple of weeks to find the culprit. A pack of spicy italian sausage had found its way to the front corner of that large trunk, and had been there for gad knows how long. I will never forget that smell, or the color of that sausage. I put that poor Mercedes through hell.
In college, I did house painting during the summer. I was driving a grey/silver 1999 Ford Explorer. One day, after trying and failing to match the color of enamel that a customer wanted on her deck, my boss sent me back to Sherwin Williams with a full can of ‘Cherries Jubilee’, which is just violently pink. What he didn’t tell me was that he had failed to properly secure the lid, which caused the can to spill all over my trunk. I managed to get it off of all the visible external areas, but the carpeting back there remained Pepto Bismal pink for the rest of the time that I had that car.
I have long learned that every human being on the planet needs at least some sort of small upholstery shampooing device. Failing that, a shop vac.
This is because I once had a Ford Probe that I was tinkering with when I lived in an apartment. Apartment had two official parking spots, but there was one kind of street parking spot in front of the building. The spot was under a tree and faced down a pretty steep hill. Wife and I went on a two week road trip (in her car, left the Probe at home) from California to Pennsylvania and various places along the way. Good times.
Two weeks later, we get back and I find that the moonroof on the Probe had leaked as I assume that the drains for the sunroof were probably not draining properly because of the weird downhill angle it was parked on. The front footwells had about six inches of fetid water in them, the entire inside of the car was damp and mold was growing on the seats, ceiling, most everywhere.
I used a bucket to get most of the water out and then stupidly pulled the car into my parking bay spot which meant I had to go down the hill and back up a steep slope into my bay. All the stinking water that I didn’t bucket out went sloshing back into the back seats and down into the floor heater vents.
I then spent the next three days taking the seats out, all the plastics on the doors, rear, hatch area, anything that could come out, came out. I didn’t have the ability to remove the entire floor pan carpets so I just got a gallon of simple green and poured it into the floor pan carpet. Left it for a day or two. Then I went back with the shop vac and a hose, just kept filling up the pan and sucking it out with the vac. I took the seats (thankfully, manual everything) to a carwash and pressure washed the hell out of them. All the plastics that came out got a bath in simple green and the afternoon in the sun. Wiped down any exposed anything that was left in the car with more simple green. Put a fan blowing down into the moonroof and left it for another solid day.
Hard to believe, but after all of that, it didn’t stink anymore. No mold, no nothing.
Sold it not long after, still didn’t stink even after being left in the hot california sun for several days in a lot where I parked it with a 4 sale sign on it.
When I was in high school my mom borrowed my car while I was out of town over one hot summer week. She used it to do a supply run for her restaurant, and forgot a 10-lb bag of shrimp in the trunk. Then it sat parked in the sun until I got home.
Raw chicken “juice” leaked out of my grocery bags and into my frunk. Holy hell the smell! After I cleaned it up and aired it out, I bought a liner so it wouldn’t happen again.
My buddy and his wife have a gourmet food business. She was driving his new manual trans Crosstrek with a big pot of tomato leek soup in the back. The pot fell over and dumped the soup. After a month sitting outside at a body shop (in warm weather), and after removing nearly the entire interior, the insurance company totaled the car because it was impossible to get rid of the smell. Death by soup.
Stink can total a car now? That’s ridiculous.
Yup
Hotshots EDT
I took apart the whole trunk area of my X5 down to the sheet metal and pressure washed every carpeted panel with simple green to get that smell out
I could make joke, but I won’t…
I spilled milk in the driver’s foot well of my 1989 Caprice Estate in high school. It was February so it just froze. My teenage brain thought “Problem solved”. Then spring came and it got NASTY. The car was on its last legs and rusting away rapidly so we took it to the junkyard. It was replaced with another 1989 Caprice Estate.
I didn’t strap down a 20L (5gal) gas can in my parent’s ’03 Honda Odessey. Turned a corner and lost probably a liter down into the folded up rear row.
Soaked through the entire seat assembly. Took us forever to get the fumes out.
Prior having kids we had BMW 1-series hatch that we mostly used for long distance stuff with wife. We are avid climbers and outdoor people, so the rear seats were mostly down to fit more stuff in. And the rear passenger foot are served as trashcan. We rinsed the rubber mats that had quite discusting layer of moldy shit from the trash. We had the car interior cleaned professionally after that each year and had the unfortunate title of dirties car the shop had cleaned.
Ze Bong Water, Vomite Deau Frauch, and Girlfriend Revenge come to mind. Girlfriend revenge is the wads of cheese in the vents or otherwise.
Steel Reserve
So… some years ago after a soccer game, my youngest wanted some hot apple cider. Not sure where to find that on the way home we pulled into a starbucks and asked for whatever was closest to apple cider. I don’t know what we got, but it was thick, foamy, sweet-smelling, and *tall* (this will be relevant soon). At the time my kiddo was in a booster seat that had little cup holders on each side, although in retrospect maybe they’re just meant for snacks, because on the first curve that cup tipped and dumped it’s artificially-flavored caramel load all over the seat. We got home soon, and I cleaned up as best I could, but the next day I honestly though I would have to get rid of the car. The too-sweet smell made me feel sick.
Happy Ending! The car detailers I gave my car too not only removed the stench, they got rid of a stain the car had since I bought it (used). Never underestimate a good detailer.
Technically, there was no spill. For all practical purposes. that doesn’t matter.
My wife’s car’s moonroof spontaneously shattered. The dealer agreed to replace it without hesitation and offered us a loaner while they did the work. We lived in an apartment complex near Houston at the time with our then year old son. Garbage dumpsters were near the front of the property and our unit was near the rear. We’d regularly put our garbage in the trunk of her car, leaving the trunk open, and she’d stop and get rid of it on her way to work.
Saturday morning, we emptied out the diaper pail and repeated the steps we’d followed so many times before. The trunk of the loaner did not stay open like the trunk of her car, however, and having worked an 80 hour week and been the parent of a baby boy, she forgot to stop and empty the bag of soiled diapers on her quick trip out. The car was then parked in the hot Houston sun for the rest of the weekend.
The dealer called us Saturday afternoon to let us know they’d finished the work, but we weren’t able to get there to pick her car up before closing. My wife had to leave for work early Monday morning, before they opened, so she drove my car while I planned to return the loaner and pick her car up. When I got to the loaner Monday morning, I could smell something was not right before I even opened the doors. When I did open the doors, I was assaulted by the aroma of a bag of diapers that had ripened for 48 hours in the Texas heat. It was indescribably bad.
I didn’t know there were diapers still in the trunk at the time, and could only imagine what was causing the smell. I popped the hood, expecting to find something had died under there — nothing. It was when I opened the trunk that I figured it out. I rolled down all the windows and opened the moonroof, holding my breath to do so. I drove to the dumpster with my head poking out the window like a dog. There was a drugstore nearby, and that was my second stop. One large can of air freshener later I could sit in the car without gagging, but things were still far from pleasant. I then drove loops north and south on the freeway nearby, trying to air things out enough to be able to roll up the windows before returning the car to the dealer.
I’m sure they had to throw something much stronger at the odor in the trunk than I had available, but they never said anything. We never made that mistake again.
“Commodious enough for three or four former associates”
That doesn’t sound ominous at all…
The shop next to mine had an old Hundai Elantra towed in after a breakdown. The customer dithered over repair authorization for a week or so. The car was stored in an outside lot (summer of course.) When it was time to start the work, they noticed a stench emanating from the trunk. A cooler full of perishable food had decayed, liquified and petrified. The next stop was the junkyard and tow driver had had to be convinced to hook.
Oh man, this site is slipping. This is how it begins. HOW is this allowed to be printed…
…without being accompanied by a Torch illustration of one of his ’50s-toy-looking robots sitting on the toilet, with its’ joint covers down around its’ ankles and reading a newspaper?
Now I need to see that.
Soy Sauce. Took the bottle to work for lunch with my left over Thai food. Cap got loose and spilled all over the passenger seat and floor board. Let me tell you I love soy sauce on my food but you don’t want the remnants of it in your car on a hot summer day.
In the early 90s I acquired a ’81 Datsun 210 which served me faithfully for the next ten years or so (to this day it’s still the most reliable car I’ve ever owned; rust, the lack of air conditioning, and only two doors led to its departure from my fleet after my first kid was born but I still miss it mightily.) It was extremely no-frills which meant, among many features (or lack of), only pressed cardboard lining the trunk. One day, at late dusk, I put my homemade carpenter’s toolbox, the open kind with an old broomstick as the handle, in the trunk and slid it to the back of the trunk; a full economy-size can of WD40, sans its cap, was sticking out of the open toolbox and had its spray actuator pressed against the back wall of the trunk. Since I am deaf I did not hear the spraying and since it was late dusk I did not see the spraying. The next day when I got in the car I was struck by a disconcertingly strong odor which I could not quite place and after popping the hood to check the engine and then searching the interior I checked the trunk and saw that the pressed cardboard trunk liner was thoroughly soaked in WD40 whereupon I figured out what had happened after finding the can of WD40 completely empty. Took the better part of a day to clean out the trunk & its WD40-soaked contents but since the trunk’s back wall liner was actually part of the rear seatback (that’s how seriously no frills this particular 210 was) I left it as it was after cleaning it off as best as I could; on hot humid summer days over the next decade the car would smell of WD40 (fortunately not an unpleasant odor, at least to me.)
What’s especially funny is that just last month a similar situation happened, also with a full economy-size can of WD40. I had put down a tote bag of assorted spray cans of lubricants and rust penetrants in the kitchen next to a stack of tools while I was in the midst of doing some extensive brake work on my kid’s Mercedes W123 and was using the kitchen as a temporary holding area for said tools. I had noticed one of my cats jumping up on top of the stack of tools and causing some tools to slide; I thought nothing of it because of how cats just like to sit on top of things but what I did not know is that some of those tools that had slid off the top of the stack were sitting on top of aforementioned can of WD40 and I just did not hear the spraying. A few hours later I came back into the kitchen and noticed a disconcertingly strong odor which I immediately identified thanks to the prior experience with the Datsun 210; sure enough, I found the tote bag, the stack of tools, and the kitchen floor thoroughly soaked in WD40 and the can of WD40 completely empty. Fortunately I was able to clean everything up though I did use up an entire roll of paper towels as that was how much WD40 there was on the tools and the kitchen floor.
Ha, no, I wasn’t mad at my cat, you know how a cat just gonna cat.
However, the moral of the above anecdotes might be that maybe I just shouldn’t get economy-size cans of WD40…
As a high school kid back around 1990, I had an 81 Mustang Cobra fox body that I spilled like a gallon of kerosene in the hatch area. Even after spending hours trying to shampoo/clean out the back end that thing still stunk to high heaven several months later. To this day the smell of kerosene brings me back to that time of my life cruisin’ around in the ‘Stang…
Not a spill but still a nasty car related stench:
Taking a car trip with my dad and his dog just after Thanksgiving. Dad kept feeding the dog bits of greasy leftover turkey. A while later I started noticing a terrible smell. Dad, whose sense of smell was blunted from years of smoking of course noticed nothing. Shortly thereafter I was overcome by the stench of greasy turkey fueled dog gas. It was so bad I had to roll down the window and somewhat ironically stuck my head out. Dad just kept driving and claimed I was making it up (note I was a grown ass, late 20s adult, not a kid).
Eventually the stench got so bad it even got to Dad and we pulled over, opened all the doors and let the poor dog purge himself of the Devil’s turkey. Thank Christ that dog didn’t let go in the car. That was probably the worst thing I’ve smelled in a car.
Short of replacing the interior or setting the car on fire I would clean any of the spills with copious amounts of soapy water (Dawn dishsoap) sucked up with a strong wet/dry vacuum. A bit of rock salt in the vacuum will kill the suds.
Follow the soapy water with several rinses of clean water and finish with industrial strength probiotic enzyme cleaner following the instructions on the bottle. Open the windows and let it dry.
If the smell remains try again with more water and more enzyme cleaner.
If the stench remains…
https://c.tenor.com/Nn-QEQVJ3S4AAAAC/tenor.gif
YEAH! FIRE!