Holding My Breath

Jerry Lundegaard has been riding around in my car all week. Imagine! A used car salesman that won’t ever let the test drive end. I forget about Jerry after I park my car in front of my house after coming home from work. Then within minutes of my forty-five minute morning commute, Jerry materializes. If I could reach over and open the passenger door as I’m speeding up the 605 freeway and push Jerry out, I would. I hate him that much.

Jerry called shotgun last week when I went to the car wash and told the senior that I wanted the deluxe wash, but absolutely no “fragrance.” I like the stink I have created in my eight-year old Subaru Legacy Outback. It is layered blend of spilled coffee, rotting car seats, and my sweat. Why would I ever want to mask that scent with Alpine Pine, Dutch Apple Pie, Ultra Cherry, Citrus Mist, or the scent that reminds me of a used car salesman’s cheap aftershave, Powder?

I can’t figure out where Jerry hides when I’m not driving. Is he in a time release capsule discretely inserted into my car’s ventilation system? Is he heat activated? Does he have a shelf life and if he does, when can I expect him to expire? These are the questions I repeatedly ask myself.

I have one more question: why is it that Jerry is lasting longer than my car wash? I feel I must take action: I will write JERRY LUNDEGAARD MUST DIE in the grime on the hood of my car and return to the car wash where I will demand a free wash and an exorcism.

(For those of you who feel car fragrance is a necessity, try one of these. Which one would I hang from my rear view mirror? You Asked For It. The Sweet Scent of Revenge sounds as close to Unscented as a car air freshener can get.)