So ok, I have a dirtbike parked in my tiny living room. Why should I be surprised that it smells like a garage instead of Pier 1 air freshener or even better, Clean Fresh Laundry, Clean Provence, Philosophy's Inner Grace, or Kiehl's No. 1? Um, for someone so clean (and perfume-obsessed) what was I thinking? And this bike is super pristine, for being 27 years old. No oil or gas leaks, but that smell is unmistakable--and kind of comforting. But I'm thinking in a few days it won't be so charming. It's a boyfriend-y smell, especially since most, if not all, of the men I've dated have either been mechanics or spent a lot time working on cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Is there some kind of parallel going on here? Am I breathing too many fumes?
Fast-forward to the next morning: yes, I was too cozy with the bike in there and started to get a headache. It has now assumed its rightful place in the backyard.
"You're one crazy chick," Don said as he got the bike and wheeled it through my bedroom and out the back door. "I thought you'd get tired of the palace becoming a garage."
That would be a yes.