The woman stood beside me watching.
For several minutes, she said nothing.
Then she asked, “How long will this take?”
“Depends whether the rest of the ignition system wants to cooperate.”
She sighed.
“I have a dinner reservation.”
I laughed.
“Me too.”
She looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Unfortunately.”
For the first time, she smiled.
“Unfortunately?”
“Blind date.”
Her eyes widened.
Then she laughed.
“Oh, that's terrible.”
I glanced toward her.
“Thank you for the sympathy.”
She smiled.
“No, I mean I'm supposed to be on one too.”
I looked up.
“You're kidding.”
“I wish.”
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Then we both laughed.
It was the first time all afternoon she seemed genuinely relaxed.
I returned to the distributor.
“What's wrong with your date?”
“I haven't met him.”
“Then how do you know there's something wrong?”
She hesitated.
“I don't.”
I glanced up.
She looked toward the lake beyond the guardrail.
“I'm just tired of people trying to arrange my happiness like another business appointment.”
I smiled faintly.
“That sounds familiar.”
She looked toward me.
“What about you?”
I continued working.
“My sister thinks I spend too much time at the garage.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
At least I could admit the obvious.
Then she asked, “What are you hoping for tonight?”
I considered the question.
A year earlier, I might have said I hoped the woman was kind.
Two years earlier, I might have said I wasn't ready.
Three years earlier, I couldn't have imagined going on a date at all.
But standing beside a stranger's Firebird with my hands buried in an engine, I found myself telling the truth.
“Honestly? I just hope she doesn't expect me to pretend I'm somebody I'm not.”
The woman's expression changed.
She looked toward my dirty shirt.
“Meaning?”
“I'm a mechanic. Single dad. Not wealthy. Not particularly interesting at dinner parties.”
She studied me.
Then asked, “You don't think fixing a stranger's car on a mountain road is interesting?”
I smiled.
“Only to people who like carburetors.”
She laughed.
Then said quietly, “Maybe that's more interesting than you think.”
For a moment, our eyes met.
Something passed between us.
Not love.
Not even something I could identify.
Just the strange recognition that talking to this woman was easier than I'd expected.
I returned to work.
“What's wrong with your blind date?” I asked.
She considered the question.