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So I’ve been catching up on Lost Girl Season 4 on Hulu recently—because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t come to the party late—and got to Episode 8, Groundhog Fae. It all starts out at an old-timey gas station, which made me feel all warm, fuzzy, and nostalgic on the inside.

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That’s when I realized how much I love the smell of gasoline. Not just gasoline—but tire rubber, and exhaust, and the revving of a big block engine, and the clank of tools on a workbench, and the sound of the wheels on the bottom of a plastic creeper rolling in and out from underneath a car.

I have a vague memory of handing tools to my dad, when I was little, as he worked on his car. I especially remember the awesome curse words (he was in the military before I was born, so he knew the best ones) whenever he banged his knuckles or bumped his head.

Also, I worked in the Auto Parts Industry (the retail side) as certified counter-person, and a trainer, and anything else that was needed—there was a time when this gal knew her way around a brake lathe, smoothing out drums and rotors, and I’m not joking—back in the day. When I started I was barely 20, and it was crap pay but an enormous amount of fun, being a woman and proving I was just as good in what was definitely considered a man’s world in the Southern part of the United States.

Of course, I grew to hate the terms honey, darlin’, and sweetheart with the white-hot passion of a supernova. But I became one of the guys, part of the band of brothers in the shop after I earned their respect. We played so many pranks on each other.

The pranks ranged anywhere from harmless—innocent things like asking the new kid to look up a water pump for an air-cooled engine (like a ’67 Volkswagen Beetle) and seeing how long it took him to figure it out—to the reckless stuff. I won’t go into too much detail, just in case some auditor from OSHA prone to heart attacks is reading this, except to say that there are many ways you can scare the hell out of someone with WD-40 and a lighter.

Anyway, watching that episode of Lost Girl reminded me how much I love the sight, sounds, and smell of a gas station. I suppose the nostalgia takes me back to the salad days of my youth. Yes, the salad smells like burnt rubber and car exhaust but, I assure you, it was delicious.