New Car Smell

The old town's waste management professionals neglected to pick up a bag of newspapers from the Wonders' curb.

Oddly, the bag was moved to a spot about fifteen feet away. It's now sitting in front of Florence's house.

Oscar says if someones garbage ends up on your property without your knowledge, then it automatically becomes your responsibility. He says this is the "first rule of garbage."

I didn't pick up the newspapers and take them back to my house. I left them sitting in front of Florence's place. I feel bad about it, of course, but I can't help it.

I'm just a sucker for rules.

***

Early on Saturday evening, I walked down the front steps onto the driveway. I had to make a quick trip to the local shopping emporium.

As I was about to get in the car, I heard a familiar whistle. Oscar was standing on his driveway beside a shiny, silver car. He had a big grin on his face.

Oscar, it seems, has bought a new car.

***

After a brief inspection of his shiny new car, Oscar volunteered to drive me to the shopping emporium.

He said it would be a prime opportunity for me to get a strong sense of the vehicle's "new car" smell. It would only be a matter of days, he added, before it would be replaced by the smell of wet dog, take-out fast food, early adolescent farts and the occasional small cigar.

I told Oscar it would be impossible for me to turn down such an opportunity.

***

I opened the passenger side of Oscar's new car and sat down. The door closed with a rich, comforting thunk. The "new car" smell was immediately recognizable. I could also pick up the faint odour of marijuana.

"Have you spoken to Weed lately?" I asked Oscar.

"As a matter of fact," he replied, as he drove out of the Sack, "I just dropped him off at the coffee cathedral."

***

Weed has been spending a lot of time at the coffee cathedral lately. He says the Little Doug household is driving him crazy. Little Doug is spending almost all of his time on the couch watching television. Supposedly, this is because of his diabetes.

Meanwhile, Daisy is feeding both of them nothing but "rabbit food." Again this is because of Little Doug's diabetes and her fear that she and Weed might get it too.

Weed says Little Doug only likes to watch fishing shows on television. Apparently there is a lot more fishing shows on television than one might think.

The fishing shows, Little Doug's diabetes and Daisy's rabbit food are starting to lead to frayed nerves, according to Weed. Since him and Daisy are on a tight "baby budget," he says the coffee cathedral is about the only place he can afford to go.

***

At the shopping emporium, Oscar and I made our way to Canadian Tire.

Canadian Tire is a bit of an institution in Canada. You can find at least one in just about every city or town. For years, it's where people have gone to buy their hardware, automotive supplies, sporting goods and outdoor equipment. Of course, it has a lot more competition now, but it's still a popular place.

Unfortunately, The Canadian Tire store closest to the Sack is probably the worst in the country. The employees seem to have only a passing interest in their work. The only time they seem energized is when they're trying to evade customers looking for help.

Oscar was pleased to be going to Canadian Tire. He said he was going to look in the automotive section for an air freshener similar to the "new car" smell. While he did that, I ventured over to the sporting goods area. I needed to get a replacement hardware kit for the visor on my hockey helmet.

***

After a brief search, I found the place where the hardware kits were supposed to be. Instead of hardware kits, I found only a few neck guards. As a regular customer of the store, I knew it would be wise to check the area where the neck guards are sold. Unfortunately, I only found more neck guards.

As I turned the corner of the first hockey equipment aisle, I almost collided with a Canadian Tire employee. He was trying to get away from a potential customer and wasn't watching where he was going.

The employee was just more than five feet tall and looked to be about fourteen years old. He had a mop of long, oily brown hair that fell halfway over his eyes. His face appeared damp and there was a sprinkling of acne on his chin. There was suddenly a strong scent of body odour around us and I was quite certain it wasn't emanating from me.

His pant legs ended midway between his knees and ankles. He was sockless and wore a pair of blue sneakers without any laces. The tongue of each shoe was curled outward like a banana. It was shocking to realize that he wasn't carrying a skateboard.

The name tag on his red Canadian Tire golf shirt identified him as Kelly. I asked him if the store had any replacement hardware kits for hockey helmets.

Kelly gave me a look of confused terror. Not only was he alarmed at being captured by a customer, but he clearly had no idea what I was talking about. To make it easier for him, I pointed at the area where the hardware kits were supposed to be. I even pulled a hockey helmet from another shelf and pointed at the screws and plastic clasps I needed.

The kid swallowed a few times and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. For a moment, I thought he was going to throw up.

He pointed at the product number on the sign indicating where the kits were supposed to be. He said he would go and check the store's computer to see if there were any more kits in stock. Then he stood directly in front of the sign with his face only inches away from it. He stood there for a moment repeating the product number aloud to himself. Finally, he scurried off to check the computer.

***

After almost five minutes, Kelly returned.

According to the computerized inventory, there were two hardware kits in stock. He stood and stared at the place where the kits were supposed to be.

After a few seconds, he said glumly, "They're not here."

***

"Do you have them on hand in the stockroom?" I asked.

Now he wore a pained expression on his face. He knew I was aware of the existence of the stockroom. I've been down this road many times before in this particular store.

He said he would make a search of the stockroom. About five minutes later, he returned and informed me that his supervisor was searching for the hardware kit and would join me momentarily. Then Kelly backed away from me very slowly. After turning his back and walking down the aisle, he looked back a few times, as if to make sure I wasn't following him.

After another five minutes, Kelly's supervisor rounded the corner and walked toward me. He looked to be about fifteen years old. He was a bit taller than Kelly, but he had the same mop of stringy, greasy hair. And unlike Kelly, this dude had laces in his red sneakers.

According to his name tag, the supervisor's name was Brock.

***

"Were you looking for the hardware kit?" he asked sullenly.

"Yup." I replied.

"Here it is."

The small package he passed over to me was definitely a hardware kit. Instead of a hardware kit for the visor on my hockey helmet, however, it was a kit containing the hardware necessary for hanging pictures.

***

I pointed out the discrepancy immediately.

Brock looked down at the kit with his mouth drooping open. I pointed at the image of a picture frame on the package. Then I pointed at the words that said, "Picture-hanging Kit."

"That's not what I was looking for." I said calmly.

Once again, I picked up a hockey helmet and held it up in the air. This time I found a visor and held it up with the other hand. Then I did a pantomime, repeatedly placing the visor in front of the helmet.

Brock said he would go and take another look. He walked away with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He left the picture-hanging kit in the space reserved for hockey helmet hardware.

***

Another five minutes passed before Brock returned. He was empty-handed.

He mumbled a brief apology and stumbled away. I started off to find Oscar in the automotive section. As I walked out of the sporting goods department, I suddenly heard the following announcement:

"Guy Wonders. . . to the automotive department. Guy Wonders. . . to the automotive department."

***

Of course, it was Oscar who initiated the paging.

Oscar used to work at this Canadian Tire store when he was in high school. The guy who manages the automotive department is a old friend of his.

I've known Oscar long enough now to figure this out before I even arrived in the automotive department.

***

Oscar found an air freshener that's supposed to be just like the "new car" smell.

When we got in the car, he took out the bottle and lightly sprayed the interior. It was a ghastly odour that resembled rotting fruit. We had to drive home with the windows down.

When I got home, I tried to come up with a homemade solution to my hockey helmet problem. Eventually, I found something in my workshop and made a temporary repair. I can go to a sporting goods store next week, but I needed the helmet for Sunday night.

I used some sturdy, but flexible wire to reattach the top portion of the visor to the helmet. I found it in the back of a drawer in my work bench.

It was part of picture-hanging kit I bought a few years ago.

***