It wasn’t a new car smell at all, but something akin to glue that crinkled my nose.
And put a wrinkle in my spirits.
I’d arrived at the shop to pick up my car after its two week spa visit, which included a partial body redo and plenty of candy red polish.
It sorely needed some TLC after being rear ended on the interstate.
Yet upon opening my front car door I noticed a mirror that was to be fixed had some how been forgotten.
And then the body shop manager happened to mention, “Oh, and by the way I think your battery’s shot.”
My heart sank as I drove off and tried to find someone willing to put one in on a weekend afternoon.
But a nearby station mechanic announced after testing it that there was a spark actually left in the old girl, and suddenly my heart rose again.
Particularly when the mechanic looked me in the eye and said, “No charge.”
Soon I felt my own spark return and so much younger.
I celebrated by traveling to the lake with my car windows down, soaking up the scents of spring mixed with clear blue water.
A soothing sailboat regatta in the distance quickly put miles between the unpleasant memories of rush hour highways and my busted vehicle weeks before.
Near the swimming beach I was greeted by my three young grandchildren to celebrate my grandson’s birthday.
But I found that I may have received the best present of all.
Each of them ran through the grass collecting wispy remnants of blooming dandelions in bouquets just for me.
Great gifts of the heart, pumped so full of love.
And we blew the old dandelions just like kisses, before I received a few special ones to call my own.
Right there on my left cheek, to remember always.
And you can bet I always will.