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"I'M KIND OF NERVOUS," I told the hairdressers in the salon when I walked in."My car is at the body shop! Actually,"  I said," do you know you can get cars fixed right here in the parking lot?!"                                                                                                                                    

Now, I had given the guy permission to work on my car. As my hairdresser shampooed me, however, I couldn't help but think that perhaps the situation warranted a bit more pondering.  Couldn't things go from bad to worse?  Or, you know, from dented to even more dented?!  Things might even go from dented to...er...disappeared (Ohfabulousfiberglassfiller, I should have known there would be no car here when I came back!)!

But I'm a sucker for opportunities presented by those needing work who can talk so earnestly and enthusiastically about making repairs so quickly and inexpensively and appointment-free!  (Though, truth be told, I haven't known this about myself until very [very] recently).  I resisted the urge to yank my wet head from the sink and run out to the parking lot with a red flag.

Which was fortunate for me.

And for Billy and his wife, too, after I'd walked out of the salon with my minimally-cut hair, realized the fine job they were doing, and headed across the parking lot to the nearest bank to withdraw a wad of cash.

My yard man was surely surprised and pleased when he saw the car!  I like to think even the hairdressers, who'd flocked curiously to the window to peer out and make reports, may have benefited in some way.  And hmm, even you, Reader Dear...I'd say YOU got lucky, too, if you like your stories with dent-free endings!
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