Ivy always took the car to the Roper brothers in the village, even though she knew they rolled their eyes behind her back and over-charged her.
'Sounds like it's the carborator or the catatonic convertor,' Gordon would say, his voice echoing under the bonnet and Greg would cough and turn away to stop himself from laughing out loud. Ivy wasn't stupid; she knew.
It was the smell of the place that kept her coming back to be made a fool of: oily dust and petrol fumes, warm leather and cigarettes. The smell of her father; dead and gone these past sixty years.
I'm delighted that this week Rochelle has chosen one of my photos for our flash fiction prompt. Why not join in with the 100-word challenge, or read what other writers made of the picture.
I'm also delighted that a short piece of my non-fiction about living with teenagers has been published on the Tin House blog today.
You managed to be sentimental being syrupy. Smell is a powerful memory trigger. Well written as I'd expect.
PS Thanks for the great photo.
Thanks Rochelle. Glad you liked it.
She could have just put an old leather couch in her garage and took up smoking . . . 😉 Nostalgia makes people do silly things, way to capture it!
That's a good point. Might even have worked out cheaper!
One of my favorite things about Friday Fictioneers is reading the flash written by the week's photographer. You certainly did not disappoint this week. I love "catatonic converter." I also appreciate the reason your heroine keeps coming back. It struck close to home.
Thanks Marie Gail, glad you liked the story and the picture.
It's hard to find a trustworthy mechanic! I love "catatonic convertor, Claire, and the nostalgic love in your story. I think in your title, you need "Brothers' ", as there are two. Congratulations on your story. Headed there now.
Thanks for the apostrophe spot! And glad you liked the story.
They use her and think she doesn't know it, but she does. She uses them and they have no clue and she doesn't care. Her money pays for something more precious than gold. I love that they have no idea of the subtleties of live and that she exists in a higher plane. Beautiful work.
Thanks Doug. You have such an aptitude for summing things up and just 'getting' what I meant.
I really remember those smells from my Dad's garage and the inside of his car – and he's still alive!
Smell can be a powerful trigger for the memory. I like the idea of her always going back there just for the memories.
Sweet story, and thanks for the picture.
What's a catatonic converter too! They were trying to fool her, but it didn't work.
Thanks Suzanne. Glad you liked it.
Ah, that old sense of smell. It can always bring back a memory or two. Nicely done. And thanks for the picture prompt this week. It was fun.
You're welcome Alicia. Glad you liked it.
Ah, I really wanted to give ivy a big hug!
I can smell it now!
Oh the power of smell and memory. It's just a pity she was getting ripped off in the process. Nicely done, and thank you for the photo. I had a lot of fun with it this week.
I'm not sure she even minds that. Thanks for reading and commenting, and glad you liked the photo.
if only they knew… what a delightful read.
Congrats on your publication. Your story was heartwarming and maddening all in one. Thanks for the pic and its inspiration.
Thanks Dawn. Glad you found the photo inspirational!
I loved this – you found that sweet spot in the story which contrasts well with the 'nastiness' of the unscrupulous mechanics.
Thanks KT, glad you liked it.
Doug's comment really summed it up well. At first, I thought she was attracted to them. You know, a case of Grease Monkey lust.
Very nice – liked the way you brought it round to her father at the end.
Thanks Kate, glad you liked it.
I think choosing the smell to convey the story worked extremely well. it's always smell that are best in bringing back memories.. if they just knew they could charge even more.
Hah! I reckon they would have charged more if they had known.
Claire, thanks for the prompt this week. I read your piece on the Tin House blog. As the mother of a son now 25, I can say, it does get better. My relationship with my son is worlds apart from where it was only a few years ago. As for your flash, I liked it a lot and can very much relate to Ivy.
Thanks Honie. And reading the Tin House piece. I am hoping that things will get better – I'm keeping the lines of communication open.
Gosh, I remember these smells so well myself. I still turn my head if I come across my mother's perfume. What a powerful emotion to get into this small story.
Thanks Hilary. And thanks for reading the Tin House piece and commenting – I really appreciate it.
I liked her name and her personality. So many of us can relate to a smell memory and to Ivy.
Yes, I think she'd be a nice person to know.
Love the sweet memories in this story, without overwriting it. Nice! I still get a whiff of Shalimar perfume and my grandmother is right there!
Smell is such a powerful tool for recalling memory.
It would be hard to see someone else inhabiting a space which was a big part of your life. We're in the process of moving out of a house where we've lived for 20 years, and it's quite a wrench. I think you've shown really strongly the power places, and their associated smells, have over us. Ivy probably should find another garage and move on. Easier said than done, I know.
Moving after 20 years must be really tough. Good luck, and thanks for reading.
Loved your story … from the the catatonic convertor, to the sweet but not syrupy ending ..
And the carborator? Thanks for reading and commenting.
Yipes … you're right of course! 😀 Georgia.
And a carborator? Glad you liked it.
Such a lovely story, great use of sense of smell. Thank you for a very inspirational photo.
I'm glad you liked it, and the photo.