Washing a car is a waste of time. It provides no functional benefit and it doesn’t last. Once a car is washed it just starts getting dirty again.
Washing a car is a waste of time. It provides no functional benefit and it doesn’t last. Once a car is washed it just starts getting dirty again. The car functions just as well dirty as clean. So why do it? And the answer, for any rational being is: to shut busy bodies up- the ones that rub ‘wash me’ on the side of my car for example. I have developed a basic principle that I follow for car washing built from years of living in California where it never rains. I wash my car once a quarter whether it needs if or not. In Texas, where rain is a possibility anytime, I may need to adjust this principle but it will take years to work out the details. So for now, I stick to my principle.
Since going to the car wash is a special, and functionally useless, event, I view the time spent as a total waste, I want it over fast. Any thing that holds up the process is a red flag. I’m a busy man and time doesn’t grow on trees. You can’t do anything useful while waiting and car washes don’t have pretty views to distract you while you wait. I have accepted this annoyance as unavoidable and tolerable up to now but I just have to say that washing my car annoys me more in Texas than it did in California. You may ask ‘Why’?. And I answer, ‘Because it just does.’
I don’t know if being in Texas activates a different level of cantankerosity or if the entire car washing process, though superficially similar is fundamentally different. It annoys me more because I am more annoyed. I can’t say more than the truth. I am a cantankerous old coot. Why I am more annoyed is a PhD thesis in waiting and knowing the answer would probably not make me any less annoyed so lets move on to details. I definitely believe that it takes longer for a car wash here in Texas than in California. It may not literally be true but those minutes in the car wash seem like hours.
Because the wait seems longer I pay more attention to the process to see how I might speed it up. I accept that the parts of the process I can’t control are a lost cause. But they still take time. I watch them anyway, I tick off the milestones eager to move to the next.
It starts when I leave my car at the vacuum station to pay. At least up to this time I can listen to the radio so it’s not a total loss. But once I release my car to the wash line the clock starts ticking and time is wasting, Having paid and found a seat I watch for Bertie (my mature British sedan) to poke his nose out of the wash line.
This always seems like the longest time, probably because I have no way to monitor the progress and often there are so many people waiting that I have to stand or go outside (always a risk in Texas). There are usually three lines for the vacuum station but only one for the wash. Even though I must wait in the car until I reach the vacuum station, I don’t really start my countdown until I go in the building to pay. At that point I’m probably half way done but it definitely doesn’t feel like it. I’m not pissed yet but it won’t be long.
It shouldn’t be long because there are only three lines. But because the wash moves slowly there is a backlog of cars waiting. I wait and watch. After what seems a lifetime, my car sits dripping on the pavement. But now the process stops while waiting for a drying slot to open. Hurry up and wait.
The attendants work over the cars in the finishing area in alternating teams. Some dry the drips, some clean the tires, others work on the windows. At some point a consensus decides that the car is ready to release and they look for the owner. I’m OK up to this point, Yes it seems a long time but I can’t see anything that might speed up this process and I don’t want them to do a bad job. It is here where my frustration grows. While my car continues to drip – or actually dry in the hot Texas sun- the ready car’s owner is otherwise occupied or gone on vacation. He/she had one job- pick up their damn car. But somehow the delights of the waiting room have distracted them and they’ve gone AWOL. They page and search but it takes an interminable amount of time to persuade them to take care of their prime directive- pick up their damn car. But, unfortunately, it gets worse.
They don’t just mosey over and drive off, they delay again. They decide to make absolutely certain that they are getting their money’s worth. They lead the attendant in a detailed inspection of their newly washed vehicle. Perhaps they have a tip that the wash line decided to skip their car or maybe they just want to show the attendant who is boss but every one seems to need another five minutes to walk around their car gesturing from time to time so the attendant will swipe the offending areas one last time. Whether it is just due diligence or an opportunity to exercise control which is otherwise lacking in their world, I don’t know or care. But it takes time and the car is already clean and ready to roll. Move on. After another eternity they are satisfied and drive off, smug at being in charge and working every penny they invested in the car wash.
Now, finally, they begin to work on Bertie. Not with lighting speed but not careless either. They seem competent and serious. We are finally in the home stretch. I begin to relax. They work their magic and finally the crew moves on the next car. One stops to signal me to pick up. Unlike virtually everyone else, I am ready. I have my receipt and my tip in hand and present myself for the hand off.
“Do I want to look the car over?” she asks. “Not on your life,” I reply. “I have important things to do.”
I whole heartedly agree.