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9| The IFP -H alton H ills | T hursday,S eptem ber 27,2018 theifp.ca • Truck Accessories • Upholstery • Heavy Equipment Glass •Window Tinting 354 Guelph Street, Georgetown 905-873-1655 Wehandleall insurance work. We handle all insurance work. • your window & door professionals • 11 Mountainview Rd., N. Georgetown, ON L7G 4T3 905.873.0236 www.buy-wise.ca info@buy-wise.ca • awarded readers choice 27 times • Visit our showroom Furnace Air Conditioning Gaslines Boilers Water Heaters Radiant Heating 905-877-3100 proud local dealer of Canadian made products .ca First things first: I have no sense of smell. It's called the olfactory nerve, which directs infor- mation to the brain, allow- ing one to smell. Unfortunately, my ol- factory nerve gave up the ghost about 10 years ago, so I essentially cannot smell anything. It's not really a big deal to me; my dad lost his sense of smell when he was in his 50s as well, so I just assume it's one of those hereditary traits. And to be honest, it ain't all that big a deal - there are times I don't real- ly want to smell some things. In fact, it can be useful. When we had a cat, I cleaned out the litter box. No problem. But there are times I feel cheated, especially Christ- mas morning, when I can't smell the turkey in the ov- en. I did have one instance where it was a bit hazard- ous. My youngest daughter Jenn and I pulled the car into the garage. "Why can I smell gas, Dad?" she asked. I couldn't smell any- thing, but upon closer in- spection, I found a puddle of gasoline under the truck; the fuel tank had sprung a leak and I couldn't smell it. Wow, a potential explo- sion waiting to happen. I now use The Sidekick as my official "sniffer." She has sniffed out things burning, rotting food, even gasoline on my shoes - anything you can imagine, she'll detect it. Recently we had an ex- ceptional "sniffing job." The L'il Red Rocket is stored in the shed, and one day I took my grandson An- drew for a ride. Heading out, I turned on the air con- ditioner. "Ew Grandpa, what stinks?" he said, covering his nose. I couldn't smell any- thing. Later, back at the ranch, er, shed, I drafted the offi- cial sniffer into service. "What d'ya think?" I asked The Sidekick. "Well, it's definitely something dead," she said, "Can't you smell it at all? It's bloody gross!" Loosely quoting Shake- speare, "There's something rotting in the L'il Red Rock- et." But I couldn't smell a whiff, and I was sitting in- side the car, she was out- side, backing away. I started humming the old Lynyrd Skynyrd song: "Oooh that smell/Can't you smell that smell/Oooh that smell/The smell of death surrounds you." The fact that the blower fan vibrated when I turned it on high told me whatever it was had to be inside it. And pulling that blower from under the dash was not easy. I struggled to remove the last screw - I was nearly beat. In walked Perry, who was working out in the field. He asked what I was doing and I explained. Now, conveniently, Per- ry is a mechanic. And he of- fered to take a look - until that initial whiff. "Wow, that stinks," he grimaced. "How can you stand to be under there with that smell?" Just lucky, I guess ... However, Perry took a deep breath, dove in under the dash and removed the fan assembly lickety-split. I think perhaps the smell might have been an incen- tive. Once out, I found the culprit: a wizened up field mouse in the centre of the fan - that little varmint kicked up a real stink. I scrubbed the fan and soaked it in Lysol spray. Back to the shed and Perry returned. I asked if he'd put the fan back in place, I couldn't get it. Another deep breath and in he went, back out in minutes. Again, the smell was the driving force. The next day, The Side- kick, a.k.a. official sniffer, checked it and reported there was a lingering scent, but 100 times better, espe- cially with that handful of dryer sheets in the car. So "that smell" is no lon- ger "all around me." Apparently, the car smells more like a "spring morning," or so the print- ing on the box of dryer sheets claims .... But sadly, I'll never real- ly know. Ted Brown is a free- lance columnist for the IFP. He can be reached at tedbit@hotmail.com. WHAT'S THAT SMELL? OPINION THERE'S SOMETHING ROTTING IN THE L'IL RED ROCKET, WRITES BROWN TED BROWN Column SIGN UP FOR OUR WEEKLY NEWSLETTER AT THEIFP.CA THE WAY WE WERE Situated on Main Street in the location of the present day CIBC building, McDermid's Star Grocery could be thought of as the early day predecessor to today's Superstore. Established in 1881, J.M. McDermid sold groceries, as well as crockery and glassware. After his death, his son, J. McDermid Jr. added boots and shoes to the store's assortment. Today, with online grocery shopping and delivery, shoppers don't even have to get in their horse and buggy to get the groceries they need Submitted by Heritage Halton Hills