I don't have a story nearly as funny as the one told by Mr. Ferris but this actually happened. My dad was born in 1922. Grew up in a share cropper family through the Depression so he was always one to get by as inexpensively as possible. He would buy a pretty nice used car and keep it up, but if something expensive happened to it so that it was cheaper to buy another car, instead of selling the old one he would park it somewhere on the hillside and use it, especially the trunk, for storage. He folded up his farming operation in about 1992 or 93 but managed to retain about 50 acres so he could keep a few head of livestock (cows and some goats to clean up under brush). He died in 2001. After his funeral my brother and I were walking around the place to see what all needed to be done. We came upon Dad's old 1966 Chrysler Newport that he had parked down on the hillside. I told my brother we better check it out to see what all Dad had stored in there. We opened the trunk and found maybe a dozen or more sticks of dynamite. I knew he had used some in the past for blowing beaver dams and stumps but I don't know where he got this batch or how long he had it. Several of the sticks looked a little "wet" so we very gently closed the trunk lid and walked away. My brother said he would call someone to take care of it. I had to go back to NY so I don't know the rest of the story but my brother got it removed. I don't know how or by whom but mother eventually sold the old car to a scrapper.