Musing, July 3 2023 or The smell of rubber and lube (not what you think)

I miss writing here. I'm going to start posting occasional musings, and see what happens.

______________________

I dropped my car off at the mechanic's this morning, a shop I haven't been to before. His garage is towering, at least two stories high, though neither wide nor deep. There was a deer head made of nuts and bolts, old tools and odd pipes near the entrance, a really artistic piece that would never make it in a museum, their loss. Right below was a vintage Coke machine that would cost hundreds in an antique shop, but here it's still in use. On top sat a few glass insulators, like the ones I have in my living room window where they can catch the light.

His office walls were wood panelling, covered with thank you notes from various local teams and a signed picture from a tv show. I expected it to smell like cigarettes, but I guess he quit a long time ago.

I've spent many hours in shops like this. Once upon a time I loved working on engines, and my 1963 Dodge with a slant six made it easy. The aroma of motor grease and lubricants and rubber is a sweet scent to me, and I smiled as I smelled it again.

My hands miss knowing how to change an oil pan or a carburetor. They are clean most of the time now, and my knuckles are rarely scuffed. Some might call it growth, but I wonder about that alternate path, the place somewhere in a nearby universe where I know more about engines and less about words. So it goes.

In this universe I can, at least, share the scent and memory with you.

----------------------------------

Support me on Patreon for storytelling writing and more.

laurapacker.com Performance, coaching, keynotes, and more.

thinkstory.com Organizational storytelling, communications consulting, and more.

(c)2023 Laura S. Packer