My beloved SUV had to go in for repairs this week. When I turned on the heat, the entire dashboard shuddered. I suspected I knew the problem, but I wanted to be sure it wasn't something under warranty.
When they opened the hood, they found one of our free-loading mice had made a home in my air filter. Of course, now I have to check our other vehicle, for the same problem.
The paradox came when I traveled through the dealership to pay my bill. A long hallway connected the section where the repairs are done, and the sales area where the cashier resides. Halfway down the hall, there was the loveliest scent in the air, and then petroleum odors closed in again. I thought I had imagined it, until I retraced my steps. In the midst of all those "manly' smells, the three women who worked there had made a little oasis in the ladies room.
The door was ajar, and I could smell either the scent of the soap, or perhaps a hand lotion. What made me smile, was that the door was directly across from the parts department, and the men were lined up, sitting on leather stools, waiting to get the parts for their repair jobs.
I wonder if they were taking their time because they liked the lovely scent wafting over them, or if they needed a break from all those "manly" smells!?