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Dreams of a forgotten regional sport
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Contributed by:
Anthonette Klinkerman
on 3/13/2007
My best friend once remarked, "Car-washing is like a sport to you." I laughed until I realized she was right. Being a San Diego native, car-washing really could be viewed as a sport. There was a whole process to follow.
The chosen day had to be a customary 78 degrees, your radio had to be tuned in to a station continuously playing
Billy Joel
songs, and you had to be barefoot and in your best cutoffs. You would squirt some dish soap into a bucket, fill it with ice-cold water until the froth sloshed out, all the while making sure your Ray Bans didn't get spattered, and then begin the set routine of moving around the vehicle.
Roof first, since it dried the fastest, then trunk, hood and windshield. Rinse. Sides and hubcaps next. Rinse. Old beach towels and chamois at the ready for a spot-free shine. Windex and paper towels for streak-free glass, though old newsprint did a better job without leaving "fuzzies". You just had to deal with inked fingers.
On a really special day, the car would be pulled in to the garage to cool in preparation for a thorough waxing. I can still see the swirls of wax drying, waiting to be buffed off. Then, when finished, there was the sparkling victory trip to 7-11 for a cola Slurpee.
Here in Colorado, car washing is more a necessity. There are plenty of places around to do it, ranging from touch-free, to merciless whirling brushes that still can't quite reach everything. All of them very water-conscious, mind you.
After repeated snowstorms, the grime that accumulates gets to be too much, and I seek out a wash as peering through the arced pattern of the wiper blades has become tiresome.
Washing your own car is an unspoken no-no in Colorado. Not that anyone would dare leave the hose running, or use less-than-environmentally-friendly soap. I've just never seen anyone engaging in this act since we moved here. (Minus the guy removing the revenge from his car a couple of columns back.)
I've already adjusted to the cycle of snowstorm day, wet/splash back day, dry, gritty day, and another wet/melt day right behind. I figured this out after I repeatedly had my cheap $5 deal at the local car wash, and hours later my car was filthy again. I should say WHEN the wash is working.
More often than not there are orange cones set out in front, and the line at the place across the street is too long by three-year-old-in-the-back-seat standards.
I splurged on a $12 wash last week, getting all excited as I recalled the car washes I used to frequent when I wanted to look too busy to wash my own car. But this wasn't like I remembered.
You didn't get out of your vehicle unless you were vacuuming, nor did you get to wander through the convenience store while your car rolled along behind the glass wall so you could keep an eye on it. No coffee cart waiting for you on the other side where you sat on benches in the sun as the attendants dried wheels. Just pass on through, between the brushes, under the giant dryer.
At any rate, my car was clean. Vacuumed, too. Enough Goldfish crackers to feed a small army were now suctioned away, the floor of my vehicle ready for the next assault.
As we moved through the machine, I reminisced about the sensation of cold water on warm concrete, and days when nothing in the world mattered more than making sure all the water spots were wiped away.
We motored back to Castle Rock, able to see out of the entire windshield, and I took comfort in there being no snow in the forecast.
Two days later it rained.
[Report this as objectionable content.]
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Showing 1-2 of 2 comments
Submitted By: Anthonette Klinkerman
posted on 3/13/2007 @ 4:53:08 PM
(Not Rated)
Thanks, Daniel!
[Report as objectionable]
Submitted By: Daniel Smith
posted on 3/13/2007 @ 4:02:19 PM
Rated Story
Great posting, Anthonette.
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Showing 1-2 of 2 comments
CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION
Anthonette Klinkerman
Castle Pines North
Anthonette Klinkerman has posted
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