Kansas City experienced its first taste of spring today. What a glorious taste it was. The sun beamed down on the world, illuminating the layers of dust my vehicle had accumulated. See, my vehicle collects dust like Flava Flav collects racial stereotypes, meaning it really collects dust.
Walking to my car, I thought to myself, “What a splendid day to bathe my vehicle! Why, I could not even begin to dream of world that contained a day as glorious as this for cleaning filth. Maybe in heaven. Yeah, heaven probably has good car washing days. I bet it has a pudding fountain too. I wonder if they have a sugar free fountain…”
As I recovered from my temporary attack of ADD, I decided that I would wash my car. It had been several months and, at this point, was dirty enough that my car wanted to write “WASH ME” on itself.
I headed to the first car wash I could think of, immediately noticing that an entire car dealership was in front of me in line. Seeing as how I am an incredibly busy person (I had TWO things to do today!), I had no time to wait.
I headed down the road, my eyes peeled for the first open car wash I saw. Finally, I noticed a car wash to my left. It was completely empty and primed for my washing needs.
As I pulled into the empty parking lot, a soccer mom SUV sped in front of me. I was sure that this woman was using her fancy rear view cameras to look at my face and laugh at me. The nerve!
I went inside to get a drink while I waited. As I climbed back into my vehicle, another car jetted in front of me. Determined not to lose my spot again, I waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, my turn arrived. I slowly pulled up to the machine. As my window rolled into its hiding place in my door, I reached my debit card out to swipe it.
The reason nothing happened is I had chosen the only car wash in the world that only accepts cash. I’m pretty sure even the Pony Express accepted credit cards. I went to a fair in town last year and bought food from a Boy Scout troop with a debit card. Why a car wash would only take cash I do not know.
I backed my vehicle out of the lane in shame. Inside the store, people pulled out their cell phones to video my humiliation.
The next four car washes I pulled into were closed because opening them would make them money, and why would anyone want to do that?
I realized that I had no choice. I would have to sit in line.
I might have waited in that line for minutes or for weeks. I sat in my car as my boredom reached its boiling point. On my radio, caller after caller announced to the host that they were a “Long time listener, first time caller.” (Why do people tell hosts that? It’s basically saying, “I like you’re show, but not enough to dial a seven digit number. That’s a whole lot of effort…”) Car after car rolled by, each cleaner than the last. Oh, to be the driver of those cars. The world would be at my fingertips if only I could see my face in my car hood.
At last, my turn arrived. I pulled up to the mechanism and immediately spied the credit card slot. Victory! I, of course, chose the “Premium” wash because I’m not pompous enough to think I need the “Ultra,” but, lets face it, the “Basic” is just for peasants.
As I rolled out, an overwhelming relief washed over me. Finally, I had a clean car. Society would, at last, respect me.
I drove home smiling, knowing full well my car would look its best until the next time it rains or snows.
Which it is supposed to do in a few days.