Washing The Car

(Please click on the title for a reading aloud by the author.)

The biggest challenge of being a writer is coping with the days, weeks or months I have nothing to say. And then there’s rejection. So yesterday afternoon, when yet another rejection letter (to the sample chapters of a book I’m schlepping to publishers) appeared in the mail I decided to wash the car. For those of you who find cars as interesting as toaster ovens, please pardon me but I have nothing else to say.

To a point, whether a car is dirty or clean has no effect on how well it performs. Sometimes a filthy vehicle is purposely left so and paraded around as a macho badge of courage – guys drive their 4x4’s after a rainy spell literally covered with mud proclaiming, “my truck (and by extension the driver) can handle anything! Whoo-hoo!” Macho however, is merely a ruse to conceal the lack of courage. Be that as it may, I’ve found a clean car improves the performance of the driver. This one at least.

So I backed the car out of the garage. It’s been through some snow and rain and back and forth over my dirt road and is a grimy dusty mess. It looked sad and unloved. Next I emptied the canister and cleaned the filter of the Shop Vac. I wanted it to suck, and it does. Once the interior is clean I move on to washing the wheels. This is a separate job, they get their own soapy water and sponge as brake dust is abrasive to things like paint. With the wheels clean and the bucket rinsed and filled with a new batch of soapy water and another sponge I move on to the main course. Because I work outside and it’s breezy I wash and dry the car in sections and work my way top down and around. I discover a new ding in the passenger door; parking far away from everyone else to avoid such damage apparently isn’t working. I resolve to park further away, but of course this will eventually lead to leaving the car at home and walking. This may not be such a bad thing, except town in fifteen miles away.

I wash and dry to my heart’s content, oh that lovely paint shines when the dirt is gone. I open the doors and rear hatch and hood and wipe the edges and sills with the now damp towel and use compressed air to blow the water out of the front grille. It has a complex honeycomb grate which is otherwise impossible to dry. I give the brushed stainless steel exhaust pipe tip a going over with a Scotchbrite pad. Ah, the details.

I pull the car into the garage and put away the hose and bucket and other paraphernalia. The final step is to go into the house and get a cold beer and listen to the pfistt! it makes when I open it and then wander back out into the garage and stand back and admire my work. The beer, a locally brewed pale ale is cold and tasty. A buzz comes over me which is quite pleasant, and the car is clean and shiny and knows it’s loved. I admire its Germanic lines and details and marvel at how wonderfully it all works together. After dinner I go back to the garage and look at the car again. Tomorrow is another day.

Gordon Bunker