I just had a call from a rather traumatized Sir. Good lord – I’m sure my eye rolling will stop sooner or later, but I confess I’m just a tad dizzy right now.
Sir and I had a few errands to run, and so I was sitting in his passenger seat when he announced a decision to take the car to a car wash “this week.”
I confess to owning just a tad of OCD when it comes to my car, and she gets a wash pretty much every week whether she needs it or not, and her Midnight Parisian blue shines magnificently in consequence.
Sir’s attitude is a little more lax than mine, and so his car, which I’m sure sported a much more up-market name at birth – possibly Gray Ghost, or London Underground Gray – but for all the TLC he heaps on the poor thing, its color is no more glitzy than plain old “gray,” and a pretty drab one at that.
I suggested he might like to take it through a full-service car wash and get the interior done as well – it not having been attended to for, oh, I’d say about three years now. I proved my point my writing my name in the dust on the dashboard. He got my point, but didn’t exactly act upon it as I would’ve liked.
He had a minor tirade – he wasn’t going to spend hard-earned dollars on a full-service car wash when for all he knows he’d be traveling on a gravel road the very next day, now was he? I felt it wiser upon receiving this piece of information to refrain from pointing out that the car’s interior was unlikely to be too much worse for wear whether he drove on gravel, asphalt or duck feathers.
So he took himself off to the automatic car wash this morning, and while normally ignoring the wet cleaning cloth provided, he actually put it to relative good use. I say “relative” because I know myself that when I’m going through the car wash I can’t reach the entire dashboard without causing myself bodily injury, or creating a woopsie by inadvertently opening a window or resetting my dials, so to speak, so I know his dashboard will be marginally cleaner, but not, shall we say pristine.
Well this is where it all fell in a screaming heap really. In trying ever so hard to impress me with his Automobile Cleanliness Diligence 101/102, his knee knocked the car into reverse, throwing him off the “beaten path” so to speak, and putting himself into just a tiny bit of a tizzying panic.
Frantically honking his horn, he managed to attract the attention of the attendant and between them they managed to get the whole business back on the rails.
I fear his traumatic experience will have grave consequences and being now scarred for life, he will never darken a car wash’s doorstep again.
Sigh. You can dress ’em up, but you can’t take ’em out, I’m telling you.
Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at email@example.com.