Car Wash

Photos.

Bob likes a clean car. The first year we were married, I was introduced to the ritual of the manual car wash. There was a lot of snow that winter, and at least once a week we headed out to the car wash next door to McDonalds in the West Seventh neighborhood of St. Paul. The instructions were detailed and onerous, from how to kick ice out from under the car to window washing methodology. Bob used a real sponge in those days, and I threw it at him when he got too picky about my work. "Do it yourself", I yelled.

My skills have improved since then and I have assisted in the washing of many a vehicle. Bob has been unhappy for about a week, as the Traverse got progressively more dusty and, yes, dirty. Today we went to a car wash on Pasadena Boulevard, a few miles from our resort. Bob had me wash while he sprayed with a high pressure wand. At one point, he got a little wild and I was soon quite wet. My glasses were fogged up and I couldn't see a thing.

My temper must have mellowed in the thirty-four years I've been washing cars with him. I simply laughed and cleaned my glasses. Our Chevy is by far the cleanest vehicle in the parking lot.