Yesterday I got my car washed. Mind you, many people in Seattle never get their cars washed. After all, it will rain. If not today, then tomorrow. Or later in the week. Soon. Is a car wash worth the money?
But my car had been on a long road trip, and bugs had splattered the windshield. I couldn’t stand looking at the residue any longer.
Plus, every time I got behind the wheel I thought of my father frowning at me. He was one resident of the Pacific Northwest who kept his cars spotless with frequent trips to the car wash. Whenever he was in the neighborhood of the car dealer who sold him his Mercedes, he stopped by because they washed the car for free.
So off I went to Brown Bear Car Wash, a Seattle car-wash chain that offers drive-through washes. I’m willing to pay a bit extra not to have to use any elbow grease on the car. I don’t even like using the window scrubbers at gas stations. Water always drips where I don’t want it, and the windows usually end up streaked from my poor wiping technique, even after my husband taught me to wipe the squeegee after every pass on the window.
As I went through the Brown Bear machinery yesterday, several memories of prior trips through car washes flashed through my head. Memories of washing the car with my father, of course, as he was one of the motivations for this wash.
Memories of taking my children through the car wash. When my daughter was a toddler, she was afraid of drive-through car washes. Even then, I preferred the drive-through approach. So when I washed the car, she would cry in her car seat behind me.
“Hold your brother’s hand,” I told her. “Then it won’t be so scary.”
Her brother was about kindergarten age. She took his hand, and her crying stopped. It wasn’t until about a decade later that I learned he squeezed her fingers until they hurt as the car got washed. But I guess she thought his protection was worth the pain. They’re still good friends today, so the damage wasn’t permanent.
The claustrophobic feel of the Brown Bear Car Wash yesterday, together with the pounding noise of water and brushes, also brought to mind my experience with a brain MRI I had in the early 1990s. I was going through a very stressful time at work (I was still practicing law), but I took the time one afternoon for this MRI that would determine if my vertigo was caused by an inner ear issue or by a more serious brain problem.
The technician positioned me and put the panic button under my hand. “Push this if you get too claustrophobic,” she instructed. Then she rolled me in and the jackhammer noise began.
After it was over, she said, “Was that too bad?”
I’d practically fallen asleep during the scan. “No,” I responded. “That was the most relaxing time I’ve had all week.”
I didn’t fall asleep in yesterday’s car wash. But sitting with the car in Neutral, and listening to the whoosh-whoosh of the brushes as they rhythmically swiped at the dead bugs was the most relaxing thing I’d done in many days. Maybe I should wash my car more often.
What memories do you have of car washes—automatic or manual?
