I was running errands today and found myself seized with envy over other folks’ clean cars.
We’ve had a cold snap and a few minor snow/freezing rain events in the area (Washington, D.C. metro), and every local government has dumped tons of salt all over the roads. Melting snow and traffic have misted saltwater all over every car on the road, which has subsequently dried into a caked-on crud, making most cars look like four-wheeled pieces of extra-crispy Kentucky Fried Chicken.
The temperature had climbed to nearly 40 deg F when I got home -sunny and no wind, reasonably comfortable - so I decided to just wash my car myself, and save a couple of bucks.
This, of course, set me on the Road to Ruin.
I parked my car into the place I normally wash it, in the afternoon shade on the north side of the house, close to the hose spigot. When I threaded the hose reel to the hose and opened the spigot valve, not a drop came out of the nozzle when I pulled the trigger. Whatever water that remained in the hose since last fall was obviously still frozen in the shade.
Now, a smarter man would have listened to that voice in my head that said, “You know, maybe that’s a sign that you don’t need to do this right now.” Unfortunately, I am not that man.
I am the man that thought to himself, “Hey, I’ve got two buckets; I can use one for the soapy water to wash the car, and the other to rinse it. Plus, I can fill them both with hot water from the sink, so my hands will stay warm.” [That’s me, Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius].
So, I filled one bucket with water, then started filling the other with water and dishwashing detergent, which I had to use because the car wash detergent was an orange block of ice. I was made painfully aware of the car wash detergent’s state of matter I when I dropped it on my toe as I took it from the middle shelf in the shed, it being as slippery as, say, a soapy 64 oz. plastic brick.
As I approached the car with the bucket of water to give it the first rinse, I decided to pour the water over the roof in order to get the most efficient rinse effect as it drained down all four sides, and that I should start washing the car from the top down for that very reason (usually, I start at the front of the car and work my way around it counter-clockwise). Certain in the knowledge that I had formulated a good strategy; I dumped the bucket of water onto the roof of the car. And a quarter of that water Niagaraed back onto me, drenching my jacket, jeans and shoes.
Again, a wiser man might have taken the frozen hose, the soap brick to the toe, and being drenched while standing in the shade as signs to think of something else to do. I, however, now realized that I was locked in mortal combat with my own doubts, with nature, and, perhaps, with God herself.
”I. WILL. WASH. THIS. CAR. NOW!” I screamed to the heavens, beginning to shiver a little bit in the shade as a breeze kicked up out of a cloudless sky. Then I wetly tromped inside to get another bucket of water to rinse the car. And maybe to warm up for a second.
Then I went back outside with another bucket of water, and rinsed the windshield and front of the car. I washed the roof and the front with the other bucket of water, trying to achieve a Zen-like level of focus. I went back inside to fill another bucket of water to rinse the roof (carefully), and the front of the car I had just washed.
Such was my laser focus on the task at hand, that when I brought my bucket back outside, I did not notice that the water that had landed on the shaded blacktop where I was working had frozen into a sheet of ice. My feet hit the ice, and went straight out in front of me. In the moment I was horizontal in the air a meter or so off the ground, I contemplated a great many things, none of which was giving up on washing this stupid car. Then the earth drew me to her, and I landed flat on my back. The bucket emptied its contents onto me a fraction of a second later, made easier by the fact that I was still holding onto it.
As I lie on the driveway trying to catch my wind, still seeing stars from my elbows hitting the ground and my head hitting the driver’s side right rear tire, my posterior getting colder and wetter on the ice, I gritted my teeth before they started to chatter. I hauled myself up to my feet, still holding the bucket by the handle. I waved it at the sky in what I hoped was a threatening or at least undeterred manner, as I had not caught my breath enough to actually speak before heading back inside for another bucket of water.
I did end up washing the car in about an hour, and only have one visible mark on my head from where I was crouched next to the passenger side front fender and stood up suddenly to catch my balance as I slipped on the ice. Unfortunately, the side view mirror was between where my head wanted to go (up) and the sky when I did so. I did not drop to the canvas, though I was hearing Howard Cosell yell, “Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!” as I staggered around in drunken little circles, attempting to apply a soapy sponge to the rapidly rising knot over my right eye.
But the car was reasonably clean when I was done. When I sat down to relax and flipped on the Weather Channel, I saw that there was a snowstorm heading for this area in the next day or so. I could not help but think that I had done a good Job that day, even if it wasn’t exactly by the Book.
When I die, I have no doubt that it will be because I was doing something to save a couple bucks. There’s my epitaph, “Tried to save a couple bucks”. When I pass this mortal coil and meet St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, I suspect he’ll slap some wrinkled ones into my hand, and give me a Simon Cowell “Off you go, then,” Wave of Dismissal, and send me straight to Hell. Of course, Satan will take those Washingtons and tell me that St. Peter always pays off his wagers, even if it’s just a few bucks.
bc
© Copyright by the author 2007, all rights reserved.
