Today I went to a body shop to get an estimate to have my
car repainted. I thought it was a random idea… something I’d been thinking of
doing for a year and just happened to do today. I’m wondering now, however, if
it wasn’t something more… something cosmically connected to this anniversary on
which we celebrate our fathers. You see, the moment I walked into that shop,
the “shop smells,” like the smell of oil and solvents and dust and whatever
else makes a garage smell like a garage, filled my nose and reminded me of
being a child… and reminded me of my dad.
My dad raced motocross when I was a little girl. On
Saturdays, dad would practice. On Sundays he would race. He was very good!
Although I didn’t fully understand the concept of endorsements at my early age
of five or six years old, for several years in a row, my dad would come home
with a brand new bike with all the matching gear. I especially remember the Bultaco year,
because I knew what bulls were, and I knew what tacos were, and that bike was
my favorite, if for no other reason than because I could relate.
I liked watching my dad race. And I liked hanging around
while he chatted with his buddies after the race, complaining about the guy who was
“squirrelly” in the second heat or the wash-out under the third jump. I’m
amazed at how much, having always been a bit prissy and hateful of all things
dirty, I loved being at the races. There, I felt cool... like I was part of a
world of winners. On Thursday nights, though, dad wrenched on his bike in
whatever garage he found, getting it ready for the weekend. In the middle of
those greasy rags and ratchets clicking bolts tighter, I wasn’t only part of a
world of winners, I was part of the grease-monkey crowd… the workers... the
ones that made the winning possible.
That is the place I visited today when I stepped into the
garage, not just the one from 2012 where I went to get an
estimate, but also the one from 1973:
where dad was 28 years old and laughing, studying his bike, sometimes
cussing; where the sound of the revving motorcycles in the garage was almost
deafening, and exhilarating, too; and where the cloud of blue smoke in the room
hurt my eyes. Today, I was reminded of winning, of the feeling of knowing winning is possible, and of
appreciating all of the work it takes to win.
Research unsurprisingly shows what we already know from
experience: scents originally associated with various experiences will produce
intense memories of those experiences, when present at a later time. With that
level of recall possible, (not just a memory... more visceral than that), it
makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be using smells more intentionally. Oh, sure. I
light a candle, because it smells good, or because I want to create an
“atmosphere,” but what if I selected scents that actually reminded me of
life-lessons, or gave me that extreme sense of knowing, or almost physically
hurled me back to the time when I felt my most secure and certain? For me, it
wouldn’t be Lavender, or Vanilla, or Eucalyptus, though each of those is a
perfectly fine smell. It would be Beef Stroganoff on the Stove, and Mom’s Hair
Spray, and, very definitely, Two-Cycle Engine Exhaust. Ha! Glade probably
wouldn’t sell a lot of that.
So, how about it? What smell would remind you of winning, and possibilities, and a time when the world was safe and wide open? I hope they are easy for
you to find and enjoy. Have a beautiful and memorable Father’s Day,
remembering, knowing and appreciating. And if you happen to be a dad, never
underestimate the impact of letting your children into your world. Even when
they are not the focus of your attention, these are the times they learn to be
winners. Thanks for letting me tag along, dad. I’ll never forget.
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