The bird on the hood

This morning at the breakfast table, Marc and I read about this lady today whose husband didn't want to talk it out with her.
As he started to drive away in the middle of a fight, she grabbed hold of the windshield wiper.
He gunned it and she remained sprawled across the hood for for 35 miles as her husband drove at top speed down a California freeway.
Seems he was ticked at her and teaching her a lesson.
We know nothing about this couple and their problems — especially his— but we couldn't help but sympathize with her plight and wonder what happened when he finally stopped the car.
We unwittingly did a similar thing with a Mexican pheasant awhile back.
We were in Cancun and we had rented a car for a day trip out to the ruins.
We'd driven along the main roads and the back roads and some bumpy roads trying to get a little off the beaten path and away from all the other American tourists.
Some of the paths were a little out there and I worried about getting dents and scratches on the car. Mexican rental agencies are known for finding damage on their cars that wasn't there before so we'd been careful to mark all the suspicious blemishes on the check sheet before we took off.
When we returned after our day of adventure, we drove up proudly, quite sure that no one would ever know we hadn't been exceedingly careful with the merchandise.
We pulled up, got out and met the guy who came out to inspect us.
"We did fine, no problems," Marc told the guy. "We had a great day. Thanks."
Just then we heard a funny kind of thump.
We all looked over as a big, dead pheasant fell off the grill onto the street.
Seems that somewhere along the way, we'd smacked into him and taken him for a ride. Who knows how long he'd been plastered there.
Let's hope the same thing didn't happen to the California lady.