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Monday, September 10, 2007
Posted
8:54 AM
by freelance radical
+ + + 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) 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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