Dearest Dark Red Saturn LS1 that resides in my parking space,
You have been with us now for over eight good years. True, you were, initially, simply a required replacement for your older brother – may he rest in peace – but you have turned out to be the bigger, stronger car. More spacious and certainly more comfortable. You have done well and we have, these past eight years, grown to love you.
Which is why I feel I owe it to you to tell you: you smell kind of funny.
And, dear Saturn, before you get upset – I can see that look coming on in your rear view mirror – let me acknowledge that it is entirely my fault. You came with that lovely new car smell and it has been over taken by tones of coffee cups, wet dog, wet shoes and umbrellas, forgotten lunch containers and – oh, yes – the faint notes of baby spit up. Despite removing the offenses in reasonable time frames, it seems layers of scent have been set down.
But, please don’t worry! I will not condemn you to a life of fake forest or an assault of chemical lemon. I will deodorise you properly. Nicely. Soon. One day…
Because I care about you. I worry about you, now that you are over eight years old and approaching a rather significant mileage milestone, too. It’s important to keep up your appearances as well as we’re keeping up your insides [and, for that, I may have to start to askpatty] in order to keep you around for a few more years.
As long as you don’t try to flaunt the traffic rules as your older brother once did…
Love and patchouli,