Car Wash Blues

Posted on June 29, 2013 under Storytelling with one comment

Now I got them steadily depressin’, low down mind messin’ workin’ at the car wash blues – Jim Croce

We used to own a Toyota Camry.  It was a beautiful car; “fully loaded” as the advertisement says.  Anyone who knows me knows that when it comes to electronics, gadgets and tools, I’m hopeless.  The VCR has been flashing 12:00 for many years now and I can’t say that I ever successfully programmed and taped a TV show.  And when it comes to vehicles, I am definitely mechanically disinclined.

One of the most attractive features when we bought the car was the sunroof.  In our northern climate it remained closed for many months of the year but when the warm summer breezes wafted, opening up the roof was a joyous occasion.  I also loved the cruise control, the power windows and in the winter, the heated leather seats.  Some of our children were still living at home at the time and they too enjoyed tooling around town in the Camry.  But alas, my beautiful relationship with our sedan was never the same after a visit to the local car wash for a spring cleaning.

Most of the time I wash my own car but on this day I had the flu.  I was chilled and had fits of sneezing and coughing.  “What the heck, I will blow $10.00 and get the super deluxe wash”, I thought to myself as I waited patiently in the lineup.  Getting the automated machine to accept my money was the first of many obstacles but I cheerfully accepted this as another example of me and machines being a poor fit.

The large bay doors opened and I positioned the car in the appropriate spot.  Of course, I always check the windows before entering the car wash bay.  I tilted my seat back just a little to attain a comfortable pose and watched as three different solutions were applied to the front of the car, the last one, a multi colored foam of orange, pink and green.   I then waited for the industrial heavy duty spray of water to hit the car’s surface.  It didn’t take too long to discover that the last person to use the vehicle had left the sunroof open.   I hadn’t noticed this as the inside panel that covers the sunroof had been pulled shut.

There are three different settings for the sunroof and you need to hit a different button to activate each one of them.  Of course, loser that I am, I hit the button that further retracted the roof.

So there I am, the high pressure water going full bore, with this toxic cocktail of cleaners and detergents pouring into the car, mostly on my head, jacket and pants.  I was so startled that it took me some time to rectify the situation.  Even as I exited the bay, residual water continued to rain down from the light receptacles, sunglasses holder and the like.

I drove home, wet, cold and humiliated.  I changed my clothes and went to the office.  I explained what happened to my wife.

You have to understand what a “Betty laugh” sounds like, to truly appreciate the lack of pity she demonstrated.  As I described my ordeal in vivid detail, she was gripped with uncontrollable hysterics. She thought it was the funniest thing that she had ever heard.  Just then, an elderly client entered the office and upon hearing the story, opined that the chemicals might help me grow back my hair.

We now own a small car that has no features.  It has no air conditioning and blessedly, no gadgets and buttons.  The windows wind up and down by hand.  And it is very easy to wash safely with a bucket and sponge.

Advertisement