The Car Wash

TRUE STORY

I decided to get the car washed. I mean really washed, so I went to the neighborhood establishment.  A uniformed woman greeted me and asked if I wanted the interior and exterior cleaned. I said, “Definitely,” and chose the best package. She slapped a ticket on my windshield and away I went. Behind four other cars, I inched forward. Finally, reaching the entrance, another uniformed woman grabbed my ticket and motioned me onto the conveyor type belt that would take me through.

I like sitting in my car and being carried away through a car wash. It’s like a Disney ride! The sudsy wavy rubbery arm-like things softly pulsating against metal lull me into a peaceful state of mind.  When the green light alerted me that all was clean, I put the car in drive, rolled forward, climbed out and watched four teenagers attack the vehicle, diligently cleaning and wiping everything down. Then they suddenly stopped. And one of them jogged over to another uniformed woman. It appeared to me an argument ensued. Minutes later the woman approached me.

“DIDN’T YOU WANT THE INTERIOR CLEANED, TOO?” she yelled over the noise of the car wash.

“YES,” I answered.

“YOU PAID FOR THE VACUUMING AND INTERIOR CLEANING,” she said as if it were a question.

“YES, I KNOW.”

“WELL, WHY DIDN’T YOU GET IT VACUUMED? YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE CAR BEFORE IT IS WASHED TO GET IT VACUUMED!” she explained.

“NO ONE TOLD ME TO GET OUT OF THE CAR BEFORE IT WAS WASHED,” I answered.

“YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE CAR TO GET IT VACUUMED,” she repeated.

“HOW WAS I TO KNOW TO GET OUT OF THE CAR?”

“I’VE NEVER HAD TO TELL ANYONE TO GET OUT OF THE CAR TO GET IT VACUUMED.”

“I HAVEN’T BEEN HERE IN YEARS! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?”

And we stared at each other. And I wondered, Why am I arguing with this woman?

Finally, she asked, “DO YOU WANT IT VACUUMED?” With an attitude.

“YES, I DO!” I answered. With an attitude.

“WELL, WE’LL HAVE TO DRIVE IT BACK AROUND,” she said and held out her hands for the keys.

“OKAY THEN, DO IT!” I gave them to her and as she turned around, I am sure she rolled her eyes. 🙄

She yelled at one of the workers who jogged over, gave the keys to him, and I watched with great trepidation as a teenage boy jumped behind the steering wheel of my new 2023 Subaru that had no dents or scratches. He maneuvered it (a little too fast) to the back through the legion of cars being dried, parked it to the side and opened all the doors. I followed him and watched as a car (not mine) was vacuumed. And then another one (not mine) was vacuumed.

And as the third car was being vacuumed, I yelled to the attendant, “HEY! HEY!” She finally looked my way. “MY CAR IS OVER THERE. I ACTUALLY WAS HERE BEFORE THEY WERE.”

“YEAH, I KNOW,” she answered. “WE’LL GET TO IT AFTER THAT RED CAR.”

I saw the red car, three cars down the line. I think I rolled my eyes. 🙄 I noted the time and looked around for a sign that perhaps I had missed—something with specific instructions on vacuuming procedures—but found nothing.  After the red car was attended to, another teenage boy jumped in my car and pulled it near the hoses, and I watched two boys diligently vacuum the car. When they were finished, one boy jumped in my car and wheeled it up front (a little too fast) to the drying area.

I followed him, sat down on a bench, and watched a young man diligently clean and wipe everything down. He lifted up the hatch and stopped. Turning around, he looked my way and walked over.

“DIDN’T YOU WANT THE BACK VACUUMED?”

“OF COURSE, I WANTED THE BACK VACUUMED!”

“WELL, THEY DIDN’T VACUUM THE BACK!”

And we looked at each other. After a few seconds of silence, I realized it was my turn to speak (yell).

“WELL, DRIVE IT AROUND BACK AND GET IT DONE!” I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. 🙄

The teenager jumped in my car and wheeled it around back. Where my car waited in line. Again. And finally, the young man vacuumed it. Then he jumped in the car again and wheeled it to the front, engineering it through the legion of cars (a little too fast), as I held my breath.

Finishing the job, he motioned me over and smiled.  I looked at my watch. An hour! It took an hour to get my car washed. I jumped in my car and drove out (a little too fast). I was shaking my head 😠 and muttering to myself and rolling my eyes 🙄 as I drove to the grocery store to pick up a few items before going home. I parked and was in and out of the store in 10 minutes. When I approached my car, I noticed bird poop on the hood.

I couldn’t believe it! 😡There was no way that a bird flew down from the sky and pooped on my car while I was in the store. This was old poop! How could the car wash miss that spot! I sat my grocery bag down, licked my fingers and began scrubbing.  With an attitude. After a few minutes of diligently cleaning and wiping everything down, it came off, and I took the sleeve of my sweatshirt and dried it, muttering the whole time about how incompetent the car wash and its people were.

Walking around to the driver’s door, I touched the handle, which should have produced a beep and a flash of light from my new hands-free keyless entry car. Nothing happened. I pulled on the door handle. Nothing happened. I said aloud, “I can’t believe this. What did they do?” Peering through the tinted window, I looked in the back. There sat a child’s car seat. A child’s car seat? I didn’t own a child’s car seat. I didn’t even own a child! 😬 And I backed away. It was not my car! 😳

I carefully looked around—checking to see if anyone was watching me. Wondering if the owner was calling the police about someone trying to break into her car. I saw my own clean and shiny Subaru three rows away, grabbed my grocery bag, and as inconspicuously as possible walked towards it. Jumping into the driver’s seat, I rolled my eyes 🙄 and wheeled away (a little too fast).