Thanks for letting me smell your car!

When my wife told me we would be going to Swedish days in Holdrege, NE a few weeks ago, I began to wonder what kind of food they ate in Sweden.  Scandanavian fish?  Some type of blue and yellow dessert?  Turns out they eat burgers, brats, burritos and funnel cakes.  Frankly, I think I'd like the food in Sweden!

Surprisingly, the food they served at Swedish Days wasn't even the highlight of the event for me.  After the parade, we made our way to the town square.  Our first stop was the bouncy house for my son and his cousins (there was an age limit).  Once my son got his fix in air time, I knew where I was going next - the car show.  One half of the square was lined with classic cars.  I picked up a voting ballot (for the top 5) and began my trek along the street of dreams.

Mustangs, Chevelle's, Camaros and Vettes.  They were all represented well.  I came across an amazing 60's Firebird from Cozad, NE.  The owner was my age and had received the car for his 16th birthday from his Father.  I was a little jealous at first.  Then, I was thankful.  I had a GMC Truck when I was 16 and two speeding tickets in the first year.  A Firebird would have at least tripled that total.

After seeing most of the cars, I turned the corner to look at the last quarter of the show.  That's when I saw it.  A 1971 Mach I Mustang.  The same car that my older brother owned when he was in High School.  This one was royal blue and my brother's was competition orange.  Other than the color difference, it was the same car that I rode to school in from time to time when I was 6 and 7 years old.  Imagine that.  Being dropped off at elementary school in a 71 Mach I Mustang.  It didn't really help with the ladies, but what a rush!

I took a couple laps around the car, admiring the details and original body and look.  Then, without knowing what was in store for me, I stuck my head in the passenger side window.  It was unavoidable.  The smell of the original interior.  The combination of the leather seats and vinyl dashboard was unmistakable.  I literally had goosebumps.  It was if I was transported back to 1982.  I stepped away from the car and almost got a little emotional.  (Cars are one of the few things guys can get a little teary eyed about).

Quickly, I pulled it together and then shared the experience with the family.  They admired the car and my story, and my son decided it was enough to vote #2 for this vintage hot rod.  Before we moved on though, I had to thank the owner.  I stopped and asked the closest person in a lawn chair - a lady in her late fifties from rural Nebraska - who just happened to be the owner.  "Thanks for letting me smell your car," I said.  She smiled big as I explained the thick memories that rushed back into my mind with just one whiff.  She understood since she had purchased the car new, which gave her 40 years of these memories.  I thanked her once more and swiftly made my way to the last set of lesser cars so she wouldn't think I was some creepy guy smelling her car.  The smell and memories stayed with me most of the day, and even though I didn't get a funnel cake, it was definitely a good day.

As I gratefully reflected back on the Swedish Days car show, which, by the way, had no Swedish cars, I was thankful for a brother who took the time to drive me to school when I missed the bus (I'm sure it was occasionally intentional).  And for the amazing gifts of memory and sense of smell.  I mean, how awesome is it that one smell can take you back 30 years!  God's creative design never ceases to amaze me.