An Auto-Body Experience in the Smog-Check Shop

I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I definitely wasn’t prepared to be so “transported” when bringing my car in to be smogged. I mean I was nervous enough that it wouldn’t pass the test. Oh those dastardly tests: the memory of past school exams, the horrid “blue books”, the smell of failure and last-minute panic attacks began to hit me in waves. I hate taking tests so much it’s reached the phobic stage. I won’t play games (okay yes to Scrabble and that’s about it) and finally realize the source of such deep-seated angst. I’m seriously missing a logic chip. I was simply born without one. I couldn’t tell you a “this-is-to-this-as-that-is-to-that” if my life depended on it. I longed to have a photographic memory. Or at least one that retained all the most important stuff that was guaranteed to be asked on those horrible tests. But nooooo. I remembered only abstracts. People’s strange names and quirky facts about their birthmarks or childhoods or romances or pets or fatal diseases. But, important dates, times, charters, plans, etc.??? Tumbleweed. Nada. Nothing would stick. For the life of me I have no idea how I received my college degree. And no, I didn’t sleep with the professors. Ah, well there was that one cute Anthropology prof… never mind. I digress. And yes, amazingly, I did graduate.

But back to getting my car smog-checked. I drove there early in the morning so as to avoid a crowd. Immediately I was met by the owner, a beaming, handsome Asian gentleman who directed me to the back of the room toward his desk. The entire setting was immaculate. There was a sparseness and everything-in-its-place look about it all. The feng shui was right. You could just feel the positive energy. There was something welcoming, safe, even lovely about being there.

And could it be? Yes, I wasn’t seeing things. In the midst of all kinds of car paraphernalia there were two large, glistening aquariums. They too were kept spotless inside and out and filled with a ballet of beautiful fish who immediately came right up to the glass as if to telepathically converse with me. I began kissing their little lips pressed up in front of mine and I was soon in love. They followed me from side-to-side, disappearing into their rocky shell-encrusted homes only to emerge and tease me into more laughter and kisses. I turned to the shop owner and commented on their adorable personalities and responsiveness. “Oh yes,” he laughed. “And they never talk back!”

In what seemed like an instant, my little car had passed her test in flying colors. I had been so distracted by the serenity and sweetness of those fish and the calming effect this harmonious place had on me that I forgot about exams and cars and machinery and smog-testing noises of any kind.

I had entered this man’s state of grace. He could have been a Monk, or Master Teacher of Tai Chi, or some kind of High Priest.  It’s easy to be holy on a mountain top. But to create holiness inside a car- mechanic-smog-testing bay off a busy, traffic-glutted street and transform it into a state of Nirvana, well that’s enlightenment. I was almost sorry I had to leave so soon. My car had received her “diploma” and I was more relaxed and at peace than ever. Maybe if I’d stepped into this magical place years ago I might have gotten better grades. But I did learn something more important. If we are at peace within ourselves and lovingly take pride in our world no matter where it is and what we do, everyone around us benefits. Waving goodbye to my “Mr. Miyagi” I asked him if he did any other work on cars and he said, “No. Just smog. That’s all I do.” Too bad. I will miss him and the fish. I almost believed that if I turned and looked back he would have disappeared.  Just another auto-body experience never to be forgotten…

Author: Cara Wilson-Granat

Although I enjoyed my time as a copywriter I am now loving my new career as a full-time author and speaker. View all posts by Cara Wilson-Granat