Of Porcupines And Salty Cars

The Reverend B. and his lovely wife and daughter were in the neighborhood this week, and since we haven’t seen them in over three years, we went to visit them, of course. He is not really a reverend; we call him that because he married us. And they weren't really in the neighborhood either; we met them in Wilderness State Park in the lower peninsula of Michigan, well over four hours away. But it is a lot closer than Seattle so we happily crossed the scary bridge and ventured downstate to spend the night in a cabin with no electricity and no plumbing. We felt right at home. We could have done without the Washington weather, though.

Outside the cabin, next to the outhouse, was a strange rectangular box, about two and a half feet high, with swinging doors on one end but no cover. It looked like a small hockey rink that could hold one car. We all wondered what it was. On the way back home, when we dropped off the key at the park’s headquarters, Ryan asked about it. It turned out to be a porcupine protection box. The creatures come out in the spring and are attracted to the salt on the undercarriage of parked cars. They can do quite a bit of damage we were told. We just laughed and drove away.

But then the car maintenance light suddenly came on.

Followed by the cruise control failing.

The left headlight no longer works.

Neither does the right rear light. 

Coincidences? We don’t think so. We made it home safely despite the car slowly coming undone. But we are not laughing anymore. @#$%^&* porcupines!