My Grandpa, My Hero

             There is a smell I had always associated with my grandfather.  He always sat by the fireplace, he smoked camel cigarettes, and he was outside as much as he could possibly be.  It is a comforting smell.  I have smelled him several times since he has been dead.  Every time, it seems as though I have been protected from something.

            This one particular day, I was driving a state car to talk to a guy about some taxes.  I was talking to my mom on the phone as I drove.  A truck was in front of me with a load of firewood that went up to the cab of the truck.  As we exited off the ramp, a piece of wood flew out of the truck.  The wood came straight at the car.  It was about an inch away from the driver’s side windshield, coming straight at my face.  At the last minute, the piece of wood turned and it went up, over the top of the car.  It never touched the car.  Then, I smelled Grandpa.

            As the wood came at the windshield, I said “Oh &^%$.”  My mother said those would have been awful last words.  I told her that Grandpa saved my life. 

            Another time Grandpa saved me was when I was driving to work.  I had to make a left turn onto 95^th Street and Lackman Road in Lenexa, Kansas.  The light turned green.  I waited a second, and then started to make the turn.  My car suddenly quit.  Two seconds later a huge truck ran the light.  He would have T-boned me on the driver’s side.  I smelled Grandpa.  My car started right up, and I have never had another problem with my car dying. 

            Perhaps I should just let him drive from now on.