Nesting Mice and Rats

Today I took my Volvo in for an oil change. The car is usually parked in the middle school lot across the street from the train station. The oil change technician called me over to the open hood. "Look," he said. On top of the engine block was what looked like pillow stuffing or thick ribbons of insulation. There were scattered acorn halves, holes gnawed through the caps. A hole had been gnawed in the insulation under the hood. "Mice," the attendant suggested, and he swept up the heaping nest in his gloved hand. Field mice living in the athletic fields around the parking lot, he suggested, climbed into the car for warmth.

Last week, our other car, a Prius, went into the Toyota dealership for its regular oil change. The technician called to say there would be an additional $300 charge to clean up the mess left by rats -- including chicken bones, excrement, and whatever else rats hoard. "Do you park by a dump?" the attendant wanted to know. No. Just on the street off Broadway on the Upper West Side. (This had not ever happened when we parked on Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side.)