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Some years back our mama cat was having litters faster than we could get her to the vet, so I was doling out kittens most of that year. One needed to go to Jacksboro, where one of my customers wanted to adopt it. So as I left to make my sales calls that day - Ft Worth to Bridgeport, Chico, Jacksboro - I took the cat with me, in a pillowcase. At the time I was driving a 1976 Lancia Scorpion, which was a mid-engine sports car, 2 seater.
I got just past Rhome when the little bugger really started working to get out. Then I stopped for gas, checking he was still in the pillowcase. Filled the car up, got back in. No cat in the pillowcase. I finally figured out he had gotten up in the center part of the dash, between dash and console. And he wasn't coming out. My banging and cursing ensured he was NOT going to come out.
I just knew I'd wind up driving down the road and he'd come out right behind my pedals, so I would not be able to stop without crushing the cat. I ended up getting back out and waiting for the critter to come out. After about 30 minutes he finally emerged. Back in the pillowcase he went, and on to his new home.
I guess he like the car ride. For years after that I'd see the cat at the store, and I knew they lived about 20 miles outside town. Seems every morning, when they headed out to the van to go to work, the cat would run under and hop onto the frame rail and ride to work. He'd get home at night the same way. Did that every day for years.