|"There's something really horrible going on here, Mom!"|
My car was a disgusting mess, covered with bird poop and other odious congealed effluvia, and I can’t really wash it at my house. Well, I could, but hose and parking logistics make it difficult, so I usually go to my aunt’s house for this irksome task. The prospect is made even more uninviting by the current inclement weather. Where are all those high school chess club fund raisers when you want them?
I would long ago gone to the giant automatic car wash place, but there is something so dreadful about whole experience that I couldn’t face it. When Rachael was wee, she was terrified the first (and only) time we took her through one. Rebecca thought it was because Rachael was only three, but I knew that it was because the car wash is, in fact, actually terrifying. Even just going in to pay in advance is a horrible ordeal. I had been hinting to Rebecca on our outings that we should go through the car wash, which I could endure with her there to give moral support, and she always said okay, she would, but “mañana.” Since I was so repulsed every time I got in my über-dirty car, I finally decided to go to Aunt Pauline’s and do it the old fashioned way. I called Rebecca to see if she wanted to visit with Pauline for a bit and help wash the car, but she thought it was way too cold. “Let’s go to the car wash!” she said. So we did.
It was as horrible as I expected. Margaret agreed about this. First there is ordeal at the cash register where you get your secret number. Then the fear of putting in the number wrong. Next you have to drive to the exact right spot in the horrid mechanism. Far enough but not too far. Then the roaring starts, and the car seems to be moving of its own volition. (This is the most hideous aspect of the whole ordeal.) The car moves backwards, forwards, and up and down, as one sits there, petrified, with clenched fists, white knuckles, and the foot firmly on the brake, checking frequently to see that the hand brake is on. Rebecca thought this was incredibly amusing and was delightedly snapping pictures and giving a running commentary on what the machines were doing, and how Margaret (who didn’t like it either) and I should get a grip.
|Praying for deliverance!|
What a relief when it finally was over, and we drove off in our clean (until the next bird passes by) car.