The rest of the date didn't go well.
When I was a young man, I owned a 1968 Firebird, which was generally torn apart for one (perceived) improvement or another. During the "down" times and winter, I'd get around in one inexpensive conveyance or another. I purchased a 1973 Opel Manta in 1980 for $50 from a family member who had been using it as a kind of runabout to haul straw and feed on his hog farm. It was everything one would expect for the price and province.
A small colony of mice had been living, breeding, giving birth to their little mice families, and eventually dying under the dash for several years by the time I bought it. The heater box had evidently been prime real estate for the "big cheese" (as it were), with the heat ducts being the suburbs of this vermin kingdom. By the time I got it, the mice had chewed most of the heater wiring, but I was able to hotwire the blower (on "high") through a dimmer switch from a Ford truck connected directly to the battery.
Dropping and cleaning out the heater box seemed like a lot of effort for a $50 car, so I just let the blower fling out whatever happened to shake loose (and I do mean "shake") when I fired up the blower. I assume the center of the wheel was packed full, because on occasion, I'd hear a thunk, and a bit of mouse dander, dust, and straw would come out the vents. The smell of mouse excrement and decay was inescapable.
After several weeks, the clouds grew more infrequent, the smell was slightly better (or I'd gotten used to it), and I was ready to take my girlfriend (of a year or so) on a date. I could not secure alternate transportation, so I took the Opel. I bought a little pine-cone air freshener, and used a shop-vac on the upholstery and floorboards.
The night in question was clear and cold, so the heat was on, which meant that the car smelled like dead mice. I drove up to her house with the windows open and the blower off, in hopes that the smell would be a bit better by the time I picked her up. My plan (such as it was) was to avoid turning on the blower for as long as I could.
20 minutes later, she slid in the passengers seat and we took off for the movie. After a couple of blocks, she asked if I could turn the heat on. Reluctantly, I hit the dimmer switch and the smell started creeping in. Nobody said anything. About 5 minutes from her house, I crossed some railroad tracks, and it happened...
Apparently, the wad that had been in the center of the fan wheel disintegrated, and got pushed through the fan. The entire cabin filled with mouse fur and chewed up seat insulation. Chunks of mummified mouse parts spit out on her feet.
... and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, a live mouse ran out of the ductwork, across her feet, and under her seat.
To her credit, she did not get out of the car then and there-- but likely only because the outdoor temperature was about 5*F. As Gordon says, "the rest of the date didn't go so well". We broke up for the 3rd or 4th time shortly thereafter. I drove the car until Spring, when I got the Firebird out again to troll the streets of Tremont and surrounding hamlets.
The Opel ended up at A. Miller and Sons scrap yard, where I got $50 for it. There would be many more $50 cars and more project cars in my future. The girl and I would get together and break up several more times before we finally gave up on each other. I eventually (sorta) figured women out. I can smell that car sitting here typing.
It still isn't a pleasant memory.
. What say you?
