Monday, September 10, 2007


DEATH OF A CARWASH
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Once a month, or so, I get my car washed by driving it through one of those 3-minute showers while playing my radio and munching on a snack from the healthfood store.

Once a year, or so, I take all my belongings out of my car, and have her cleaned, vacuumed, and washed inside-and-out, while I watch her getting serviced through the windowed wall that's at one entire side of the tunnel she's going through.

Last week, was once-a-year time.

When I arrived, a Latino guy seemed to have replaced the American owner who built the place about 5 years ago. He didn't understand a word of English, but smiled at me to indicate that he knew exactly what I wanted. (which, it turned out, he didn't)
Then he forgot to remove my antenna, so I did it myself. Inside the building, I could barely see my car starting out on its tunnel-trip, because the once-sparkling-clean windows were smudged with gray-black dirt, as were all the walls inside the tunnel.....so I figured these new owners weren't doing the re-cycling-job the way they were supposed to. While I walked along that dirty window-wall, I heard nothing but Spanish being spoken by the rest of the employees who were standing around flirting with a pretty Latino woman.
I noticed that no one was wearing the company uniforms the previous owner had bought for them......that all the rags being used were as filthy as the walls and windows of the tunnel......that the vehicles coming out of that tunnel, were smudged with dirt as well.

I suddenly felt like I wanted to get my car the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Which I did, while promising my little car that I'd never again take her back to that creepy filthy place.
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